Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Thumping his head against the steering wheel, causing his horn to blare out and about six nearby shoppers to almost jump out of their skins, Miles mentally prepared himself for the next couple minutes of his life. Originally, he was going to stay in his car until his nerves chilled the hell out, but after a couple minutes of no progress in his heart rate slowing, he bit the bullet and began heading towards the entrance of the Blockbuster. Neither outcome of this trip would help him relax one bit anyway.

The air was bitingly cold, the world already succumbing to the winter chill despite the fact it was only November. So cold in fact, that he wasted no time getting indoors and the warmness of the building nearly stung in its contrast. He wasn’t looking for boxsets or the latest hit films though. Instead, he was looking for a friend. His best friend, actually. After Francis had picked up his job at the Blockbuster, Miles had lost his weekends with him, which admittedly irritated him. Although the reason behind getting the job was something Miles was deeply in support of – not having to rely on his parents’ meal allowance – he still mourned all the time together they’d given up as a result. This was why Miles always visited him towards the end of Francis’ shift, so he could distract him from his work and convince him to come home with him. Not the most honourable thing on paper, sure, but Francis didn’t seem to mind.

This time he wasn’t doing that though. Yes, it was the end of Francis’ shift and he was looking for him, however he wasn’t confident at all that he was even working. He’d done the same thing last weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday, but he was absent.

The reason Miles was there was because Francis had been missing for two weeks.

Completely AWOL. Not a sign for where he was or an inkling of what might have happened. The last time they’d spoken was on Francis’ seventeenth birthday, when his friend had called to let him know that their plans to hang out had to be cancelled with no form of explanation as to why. From that point onwards, Francis was gone. Not at school, not answering Miles’ calls, not at work. Miles had tried every single day to pound on his front door and demand for some answers, but it seemed his parents had begun living at home permanently, so that was a no-go. That discovery also hadn’t exactly made him feel better about Francis’ sudden disappearance.

Coming to the Blockbuster that day was Miles’ last ditch effort to find his best friend before he got the police involved. Miles’ parents were reluctantly hearing him out until this point to not call the authorities, Illi and Ray were in disbelief that he hadn’t yet, but he just had this feeling that he would turn up any minute now. If he didn’t show at work that week, it either meant he was officially gone and definitely in some kind of danger, or he was soon to be fired, so if he had the capability of going to work, he surely would.

“Hey Miles, how’s it going?” A voice caught Miles off-guard, coming from behind him while he was making his way to the front counter. As he turned around, he saw one of Francis’ co-workers, Malcom, who he’d occasionally talked to while waiting for Francis to finish his shift.

When he got his bearings again and remembered why he was actually there, Miles responded, “Alright, how about you?”

“I mean, I’m working so I could be better, I guess,” Malcom chuckled, his red eyes squinting a little. Though not being told explicitly, Miles could tell he smoked a lot of weed, “You’re here to see Francis, I assume?” Miles nodded, his pulse ramping up again, “He’s just in the back, do you want me to get him?”

Well that was easy. To try to appear casual, Miles had to hold back the urge to show how relieved he was in his face, “Yeah, please.”

“Wait here then, I’ll make him come out.”

As Malcom turned to walk away, Miles rubbed at his eyes, trying to think quickly about what he was even going to say. He hadn’t exactly planned this far ahead, he was fully prepared for Francis to stay missing, not to be actively working whilst presumably knowing that his friends were panicking about his absence. If anything, this just made Miles more frustrated. It felt like hours that he was waiting for Francis to make an appearance, even though it was probably only a couple minutes. Miles needed an explanation and he needed it now, especially because he knew he’d hopefully be getting one soon. While he was stood there, he tried to momentarily think about something else as to not drive him insane or cause him to break an entering into the staff-only back room. He looked at the movies on the shelves around him; it appeared Malcom had stopped him in the middle of the romance section, which was just a fucking joke at this point.

After two years of knowing Francis, Miles was still intensely in love with him and had done exactly nothing about it.

There weren’t any major hiccups in their sophomore year regarding their relationship and Francis had at least managed to convince himself that their less platonic moments and behaviours were just a product of how comfortable with each other they were as friends, so it wasn’t that Miles didn’t think he could. It was more a matter of knowing how Francis would react that was the problem. Though it was less a ‘what if he doesn’t like me back?’ and more of a ‘he does, but what if he can’t cope with that?’, which wasn’t really a situation that film and TV had covered to death like the former. No advice from any sort of media romance stories could assist him in how to figure this out, because the world somehow still wasn’t ready for the widespread commercialised homosexuality, that wasn’t just effeminate villains.

Movement caught Miles’ eyes and he dragged them away from the scantily clad women holding onto the muscular and very masculine heroes. They landed on none other than Francis, who was moving towards him hesitantly, holding his elbows. Above everything, he just looked exhausted. As he came to a halt, just a metre away from Miles, Francis furrowed his eyebrows.

Nervously, he said “Y’know I’m still on the clock, I can’t-”

“Meet me in my car,” Miles interrupted in a tone that really reminded himself of his mom, “I know when your shift ends and if I don’t see you within fifteen minutes of it, I’m getting the cops involved.”

Francis’ eyes widened, he appeared to weigh out his options and then sighed, “Okay.”

Back in the drivers seat, Miles texted Illi ‘Found him’ and almost immediately his phone started blowing up with messages such as:

‘OMG’

‘Is he ok?’

‘wut happd?

‘idk yet’

‘will lyk l8er’

Sitting in there was worse than waiting in the store initially. It was pretty damn cold in the car now, but running the engine would waste a hell of a lot of gas and the tank was already low, so he was shivering from his nerves and the temperature. Trying to figure out what was going on just from the ten seconds he’d seen him was a lost cause, so instead he considered all the possibilities. At least he was able to cross out the idea that he was dead.

He had so many questions, yet had no idea how to start asking them. When Francis eventually made his way to the car – in good time as well – they sat in silence, staring straight ahead of them for a while. This was when Miles was making a bit more of an assessment of what he was dealing with. The first thing that he noticed, was that he smelled weird. Not necessarily bad, but like he was caked in cologne and dry shampoo, which was backed up by the visible residue on his shirt of both. Other than that and the tiredness however, nothing jumped out at him as being concerning, which Miles didn’t know how to feel about.

After a nauseating couple minutes of quiet, Miles couldn’t take it anymore.

“In one sentence, tell me right now why I shouldn’t slap the shit out of you,” Okay, so that came out more threatening than he thought it was going to be. All the humour in his tone was seemingly lost to the two weeks’ worth of dread that had built up.

Francis thought for a couple seconds, and then said, “Because you like my face too much?” He grinned in a way that asked Miles to go easy on him. The annoying part was that he was right.

“Two weeks, Fran,” He sighed and his friend grimaced, “Two weeks! I’d like you to just consider what I was thinking when you all of a sudden just disappeared.”

“I know, I-” Francis cut himself off and took a deep breath, “Trust me, Miles. If I was able to contact you, I would’ve. Just let me explain.”

“Go on then,” Miles crossed his arms in front of his chest and braced himself.

Francis looked at him directly in the eyes, pursed his lips and breathed deeply again before asking, “Promise to not freak out?” Miles crossed his heart.

“I got kicked out.”

Oh.

Holy shit.

Miles must’ve been sat there, mouth agape for a while, as Francis began to look increasingly stressed, “I know that sounds bad, but I assure you I’m alright.”

“Bad is quite an understatement,” Miles spluttered, re-grouped when he realised he was definitely freaking out, “So you’re…?”

“Homeless, yeah,” He twitched his head to the side, but was still way too calm in Miles’ opinion, “I’m not like on the streets or anything though, I’ve been uh- sleeping in my car.”

“What even happened?” Miles just couldn’t rationalise any of this in his head. It didn’t feel real, “Why now?”

Francis made a grim expression which was the first time he’d actually looked upset this entire time, “They planned everything. My parents. All the things they did that we thought were strangely nice of them. The driving lessons, the car, the driving test on my birthday so I could get my license as soon as I could,” His voice began to quiver and he went red in the face, “They did it so they could throw me out in good conscience. Frame it to their church group that I moved out on my own accord to ‘start’ being independent.”

The information was pilling into his brain quicker than it could settle and Miles felt like he was going to burst or something. He knew there had to be some kind of ulterior motive to those gestures, he knew they’d never do something like that in good faith. They were truly scum of the earth, no doubt about it. The only good takeaway was that Francis had passed his driving test first time, with the drawback that he was kicked out on his birthday.

He felt sick.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Miles felt tears of his own beginning to form, “You could’ve driven to my house; we can help you, y’know?”

Francis shook his head, “I didn’t want to just show up at your door. You and your parents would’ve felt pressured to take me in. Plus I don’t know how much my neighbours are going to babble, and if my parents found out I was staying with you, there might be trouble. You guys don’t need that.”

Was he insane? None of that was of any importance, at least by Miles’ standards, “Are you kidding? Fran, my parents would’ve adopted you if they could, you would not be giving us any sort of grief by crashing at ours for a while.”

Shrugging, Francis muttered, “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Okay, from now on you’re living with me. You don’t get a choice in this matter, you are not gonna be sleeping in your car, it’s inhumane. Especially considering how easy it is for you to get ill,” Miles didn’t really understand Francis’ logic, he basically lived with him anyway because of how much he visited.

Francis shrunk into himself in a similar fashion that he did in the store – like he was a child  getting told off, “Okay. You sure it won’t be an issue?”

Miles rolled his eyes at him and he seemed to get the message.

They left that conversation there; Miles would ask more questions later on as he didn’t want to bombard the guy. Francis then left to drive his own car back to Miles’ and in order to get there first, Miles set off as soon as he could, turning up the radio as loud as he could until it hurt to drown out his thoughts. Kicked out. It was one of those things that had laid dormant in Miles’ mind as a possibility, but he never thought they’d actually go through with it. Once he’d parked in the driveway, he waited for Francis’ car to pull up before he left his own, unbuckled his seatbelt and slouched to the point where he wasn’t even against the headrest anymore, focussing on breathing more than anything else. He was furious at Francis for hiding this from him, he really was. No amount of empathy could counterbalance the frustration he felt that his best friend still felt the need to figure everything out by himself. Yes, he was much better at talking about things when he was asked now, Miles had made sure of that over the past couple years, but his persistent omission when he wasn’t had remained a trademark.

When Francis finally made it there, Miles met him outside the boy’s car, which he could see was packed to the brim with stuff in both the trunk and the backseat. They wordlessly headed upstairs and into Miles’ bedroom, but Francis didn’t immediately slunk onto Miles’ bed like he usually did. Instead, he just stood there, kind of awkwardly.

“You want me to get you anything?” Miles asked, also not sitting down.

Francis squinted his eyes, “Can I have a shower?”

Giggling slightly, Miles gestured in the general direction of the bathroom, “Be my guest. I’ll get you a towel and uh…do you need any clothes?”

He pinched his mouth at the side, “I have clothes in my car.”

“Are they clean?”

Francis dotted his eyes around the room sheepishly and then shook his head.

“Clothes it is then,” Miles snorted.

While Francis was showering, Miles took it as an opportunity to call Illi to finally update her. Though he assumed that Francis would’ve likely guessed that Miles would tell Illi about what was going on, he still went outside for privacy out of respect. The walls were paper thin after all, and he didn’t think Francis would want to hear him talk about it like he wasn’t there. Before he went into the backyard, he shot a look at his parents to say ‘I’ll explain as soon as I can’ and selected his sister on the contacts list on his phone.

It rang for maybe a second before she picked up.

“Milli!” Miles had to shoot his phone away from his ear because of how loud she was, “You can’t leave me on a cliff-hanger like that, you know how worried I’ve been!”

“I know I’m sorry,” He pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“So what’s the deal? Is he alright?”

That was actually a good question, “I…think so?”

“You sound unsure, what happened?” Her voice all of a sudden went serious and Miles felt it in his chest.

“Oh God, um…” Miles then realised he didn’t really know how to phrase it without being insanely blunt, “Fran got kicked out of his house.”

About half a minute of silence passed before Illi started trying to get words out, “Wh- uh-…h-…excuse me?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Miles chuckled at the insanity of the situation.

“Do I need to come home? Should I be helping out? I mean, I can’t do much from over here-” Illi rambled, leading to Miles cutting her off.

“No, don’t come home, we’ve got it sorted, kind of. He’s living with us for the moment and I swear to God Illi if you say the word ‘gay’ I will smite you down.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” She claimed not very convincingly, “Is he okay though? Mentally, that is.”

Miles resisted to urge to mutter ‘when is he ever?’, “I think you should ask him yourself.”

“Would he mind?”

He did have to think about that, but he ended up replying, “No, I wouldn’t say so. I think he’s expected the fallout from all this.”

“Okay, I’ll do that then. Thanks for letting me know Milli.”

“No problem.”

The call ended there and Miles headed back to his bedroom. Francis still seemed to be showering so he just sat on his bed and put on the next episode of Angel. When the boy was done deep-cleaning himself as it appeared, he wandered towards him in Miles’ comically wrong-sized clothes, towelling out his hair still. Usually, Miles didn’t see the appeal of hot people being sopping wet, but oh lord did he get it now. If anything, it was torture to him, having to witness this without being able to simply walk up to him and devour his face like some kind of crazed animal. Life was unfair.

“You feel better now?” Miles asked to conceal the fact he was desperately trying to hold himself back from making a terrible decision.

“Much better,” Francis sighed and scooted next to Miles on his bed, “That was a blissful experience.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I’m warning you, I may end up hibernating into next week,” Miles really, really didn’t blame him, “Let me tell you, cars aren’t the most comfortable things to sleep in, especially in this weather.

Okay, great, now Miles had an image of Francis shivering and struggling to get to sleep, alone in the dark of his car. Totally not horrifying to picture at all.

“Don’t worry about it, get as much sleep as you need, I won’t judge. Sleep for the whole week if you want.”

Some shuffling beside Miles made him realise oh he meant now. Obviously, he wasn’t complaining, not at all. In fact, he was quite cosy himself and had no issue starting to drift off. Though, Francis did end up falling asleep first, curled up against Miles with his head on his chest and arm wrapped around him like normal. Before he managed to pass out too though, Miles couldn’t help staring at him with absolute misery. He just couldn’t reason how Francis was as calm and collected as he was under these circumstances, if Miles was in his position he would’ve…not been? He hadn’t really thought a lot about that hypothetical. But he for-sure wouldn’t have been like this. At least Miles’ dreams had mostly stopped now, bar the occasional one or two a month, so the likelihood he’d accidentally disturb Francis’ slumber was relatively low.

The dreams he got now were primarily just direct flashbacks of the afternoon Francis (sort of) died, with the occasional hospital dream thrown in for some variety. They didn’t bother him nearly as much anymore though – the fact he didn’t get them nightly definitely helped – though when he did get them, he still jolted awake. However, from what he’d heard, and sometimes witnessed, Francis had been getting a lot more nightmares himself, all of them being his own flashbacks of that same day. Although he never reacted nearly as violently as Miles did to his dreams, much like Miles, Francis squirmed and spoke aloud when he’d get them, which was honestly harrowing seeing someone do it rather than being told that you did afterwards. It didn’t help that what he said most of the time was him pleading for his life. Fortunately, this night he didn’t appear to dream at all, probably too consumed by exhaustion for his brain to activate one.

When the next morning came, Miles woke up before his friend as he expected. Originally, he was just going to stay there until Francis followed suit, however he realised that was probably going to take hours, so he manoeuvred his way out of Francis’ arms, trying his best not to bother him, and headed downstairs. On weekends, his parents for some ungodly reason, always woke up earlier than him and made a pot of coffee (less ungodly). This morning was no exception, so he took this as an opportunity to fill them in on what happened. As predicted, they had no issue letting Francis stay with them until he could get back on his feet, but they seemed unenthusiastic about him being able to even find another place to live before he turned eighteen. There was that whole minors can’t actually do a whole lot problem to deal with and even if he used his fake ID, there would of course be the risk of people finding out it was fake, which would only cause more complications.

Despite this though, something within Miles knew that Francis would try his damn hardest to find a way.

The discussion ended as soon as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Miles checked the time: 10:47, which was still earlier than he was expecting, but since Francis had passed out at like, 7pm the previous night, he guessed that was why. Rather than his cane, he was using the forearm crutch that the hospital had insisted he used instead of it. However, Francis only ever used the crutch if his leg was borderline non-functioning or just painful. It turned out that he would have to use at least some kind of walking aid all the time instead of off and on, which Miles could tell upset Francis to no end, even though he never talked about it properly. Although the hospital had warned him about this, they seemed confident it wasn’t going to be the case, and Miles almost believed they’d lied to Francis to make him feel better. It wasn’t like he couldn’t walk without one, but Francis had mentioned in passing that he could only really go as far as the distance between his bedroom and the kitchen and back before it began to start causing him trouble on a good day, so he didn’t tend to.

Upon witnessing a scene, that very much emulated ‘family meeting’ Miles could guess, Francis pulled this sort of alarmed face.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, looking just about ready to bolt out of the room. Maybe even the house.

“Not at all,” Miles’ dad salvaged, giving Miles a pat on the back which he wasn’t expecting at all so it almost just about knocked him over, “His mom and I were just about to set off grocery shopping, uh-”

Miles could tell he wanted to ask Francis something and he could take a good guess as to what that was. To save him from the mental conflict, Miles asked it for him.

“Do you want to come with, so we get everything you need as well?”

Francis’ paranoid look only intensified, as Miles predicted, along with what he was going to say afterwards.

“Don’t worry about getting stuff for me,” He scrunched his eyebrows, “I’ll buy food for myself like usual, you’re already doing too much by letting me stay here, and it’s the main reason I have a job anyway. Speaking of which, I have work soon,” His eyes bugged out like he’d only just realised that and began to go back upstairs to presumably get ready.

When Miles found him aggressively combing his hair, sat down on the floor in front of Miles’ mirror, he asked, “Are you sure you want to go in today?” He glanced at the crutch lying next to his friend.

“I missed two shifts last week, my boss would have my head if I missed today too. I can’t risk being fired, Miles,” He frowned and looked in Miles’ eyes through the reflection.

“I know,” Miles sighed, “I just don’t want you biting off more than you can chew.”

Francis hauled himself to his feet and wobbled a little before getting a hold of his crutch again, making Miles shoot him a look.

“Really I’m fine,” He glared back, but then his face softened, “If you’re that concerned, then you could do a favour for me?”

“Like what?”

Francis grinned, “How do you feel about doing my shopping?”

<3

After dropping Francis off at the Blockbuster, he began the mission that was getting Francis’ groceries. Before his food was bought with his own money, Miles would always encourage Francis to stray from the list a bit for some variety, but now he wouldn’t do any such thing. Largely because this was Francis’ hard-earned money and he wasn’t with him this time, so it really wasn’t his choice to make. Admittedly, he still very much enjoyed doing this, though it was the first time in what felt like eons that he was. In the car on the way there, Miles had at least managed to convince the guy not to bother purchasing dinners, as there was absolutely no way his parents were not going to cook enough food for all of them anyway. However, this had the downside of the fact he finished the shop within record time and he still had over seven hours to kill before he had to pick up Francis.

Unlike how he usually spent his weekends, Miles didn’t feel like doing jack-shit while bumming around the house, so he decided to try and help his friend out as much as he could. The main thing was laundry. He successfully located Francis’ keys in the bedroom and began scavenging around the car for possibly a bag or just loose clothes strewn amongst the haphazardly thrown-in belongings. Eventually he discovered a suitcase, plus a couple t-shirts and socks squeezed in between both of Francis’ guitars; knowing Francis, those guitars were probably the first things he packed. The only other things he’d grabbed (and hadn’t already taken into Miles’ house) were a pillow, a blanket, his guitar amp and cables, his CD player plus his CDs, the Buffy Boxset, and the Charlie Brown Halloween special. It was striking how much space all of it took up though, especially the instrument stuff, but he seriously couldn’t have fit anything else in.

This was when Miles realised he had no idea how to use a washing machine. It was fucking disgraceful, he was literally seventeen and had maybe used it himself once or twice with his parents’ guidance, but they weren’t home at the time to shout for when the damn thing inevitably blew up. In the end, he just put the soap where he assumed it went, pushed a couple buttons and prayed. All of Francis’ clothes actually fit into the machine, but right before he started the cycle, he remembered something about not mixing lights and darks and pulled all the lights out – he wasn’t that clueless at least. While it was running, he then got to work moving everything from Francis’ car into his bedroom. He ended up just piling it in the middle of the carpet to wait for Francis to decide where to put it, but the harder job was done at least.

Not long after Miles moved the darks into the dryer and began washing the lights, his phone rang. It was Francis. Oh God, he never called him while he was working, something had happened.

“Hello?”

Miles had to admit, he always had this mini rush of relief when it was actually Francis’ voice when he responded, “Hi Miles,” He sounded rough though and Miles was so ready to say ‘I told you so’, “Are you busy?”

“What happened?” He pressed into his eyes until he saw stars.

Then a muffled scuffling sound came through the speaker and Miles faintly heard Francis shout ‘asshole!’ before a different voice spoke to him, “Miles come pick up your boyfriend, he looks like he’s about to throw up. Or maybe pass out. Probably both,” It was Malcom, who seemed to be a lot more entertained than he should’ve been. He thanked the lord that no one could see how flushed the ‘boyfriend’ comment made him.

Miles sighed loud enough that even Francis would hear it away from the phone, “I knew he shouldn’t have come in today.”

“Hey it’s not all his fault, some prick from your school kicked at his crutch, knocking him over. He fell hard on his bad leg. Though, if I hadn’t noticed how green he looked, it seemed as though he was just going to keep working.”

Why wasn’t he surprised? “I’ll be right there.”

“You better be, I’m not first aid trained and I can’t deal with vomit.”

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Both at work and at school, some people appeared to take a great amount of pleasure in shoving around the disabled kid because it was just that easy, wasn’t it? Though the school had understandably cracked down even more on violent behaviour after their freshman year, if no teacher was around, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like the students would report it and this kind of bullying rarely even left a bruise anywhere visible. So, getting trapped in lockers, being pushed over in the hallways and purposefully being tripped over was a common occurrence for both Francis and Miles. Obviously, Miles didn’t think much of it when it was just him, but each time it was done to Francis, Miles was always one misplaced comment away from ripping a guy’s throat out. When they were freshmen, they'd say these things were ‘minor’ acts of aggression, but now Francis couldn’t just brush this kind of stuff off like he used to.

It didn’t help that he was already insecure about his limited mobility, the fact that a bunch of dickheads were using it to their advantage just to mess with him just made it ten times worse.

When he arrived, Malcom found him and ushered him into one of the staff-only areas.

“Am I allowed in here?” Miles asked, picturing Francis’ boss stomping over and reeling at them for not respecting the sanctity of the label ‘staff only’. Miles had never met the woman, but with the way Francis described her, she was apparently somewhere between a kaiju and Mr Schechter. Not completely evil and you could tell she gave a shit, but had the ability to give you nightmares for weeks.

“No, but there are exceptions for emergencies and I’m counting this as one.”

They entered what appeared to be a staff lounge of some sorts, which was presumably where people spent their lunch breaks if they didn’t leave the building for it, due to the presence of a couch, that was probably older than the country, and a minifridge of similar quality. On the couch, sat Francis, who looked exactly as Malcom had described. Pale to the point of being green, shiny from sweat and visibly spaced out. He didn’t even notice them when they opened the door.

“Fran, c’mon let’s get you home,” Miles assisted him to his feet and continued to hold onto him while they walked to the car.

Home. It sounded weird now that Francis didn’t have a home; not really. But then again, it never felt like he did in the first place.

<3

“How many times have I said that you’d make an amazing housewife?” Francis was very close to going to eighth base with his clean clothes.

Miles grinned why he watched him smother his face in the fabric of both of his black flag t-shirts – yes he still owned the white, threadbare one, though it had started to look more like a rag or a tea-towel than a shirt, “It’s my calling, what can I say?”

Francis eventually settled all his clothes back into his suitcase and deflated on the bed. Miles had given him some Tylenol, as useless as it normally was, but that was usually all he could do in these situations. He was lucky that there was no vomit this time, but the boy still looked perpetually three seconds away from fainting. The frustrating part, was that Miles was better equipped to deal with these painful spells during the rougher bits; rubbing his back and reassuring him while he was hunched over a toilet, he could do. Catching him when he collapsed unconscious and helping him get his bearings when he woke up, was no problem. However, everything beforehand was basically just waiting in anticipation. Staying on-guard in case of a turn for the worse. Sometimes food and drink did wonders, and sometimes it was just chucked back up – if Francis even touched it in the first place – so that was always a gamble.

More than anything though, Miles was wondering whether Francis should come to school the next day. Something in his head was telling him that the pain he was experiencing was the two-week’s worth of poor conditions and stress catching up to him, and it wasn’t like that was all going to disappear within a night. Both of them knew that any more absences from him would spark a riot from the councillor and that would lead to personal questions that Francis was never going to answer and then everything would all of a sudden become very complicated very quickly.

“You still in agony?” Miles asked as he slid next to Francis, who was on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling.

He let out a strained, “Yep,” and wiggled his body so that his head laid on Miles’ lap, “It was square-face by the way, that knocked me over.”

No surprises there. Square-face was a member of the lacrosse team, who Francis had previously had a few run-ins with, even during the time when it was mainly the hockey team that were bothering them. Nowadays, he was their main problem to deal with at school (and outside apparently), he was homophobic in the much less emotionally loaded way and gained this sadistic sort of pleasure in watching Francis struggle to pick himself up after face-planting the linoleum. They called him square-face, as neither of them had shared a class with him since they were freshmen, so had never made an effort to learn his name – and he had a crazily square face. Like, his skull must’ve been a cube.

“I don’t understand his problem with you,” Miles muttered, feeling his face turn red-hot.

“Maybe he still thinks I have a thing for him,” Francis quirked a small smile, “Y’know, after that one time Hunter told him I was giving him moon eyes?”

“God I forgot about that,” It was so long ago that he could feel his brain trying to piece everything together, “So much has happened since then. At the time, I remember being so worried about you like it was this huge fucking deal, but now it seems so insignificant.”

“Not much has changed then, you’re still worried about me all the damn time,” Though his tone was mostly unserious, there was a hint of irritation behind it that Miles caught onto.

“Can you blame me?” He answered back simply, letting his slight annoyance shine through.

After a couple seconds of contemplation, Francis answered, “I guess not.”

<3

Almost as soon as they arrived at the school the next morning, Mr Schechter approached them and just about dragged them to the councillor’s office without a word of explanation as to why. The teacher had this odd look on his face that was familiar, yet he couldn’t place when he’d had seen it before. The only way he could describe it, was that he looked one lighter-flick away from spontaneously combusting. This couldn’t have just been about Francis’ shocking attendance, the fact that Miles had to be there too was a dead giveaway, however what fully confirmed this, was that when they entered the room, Hunter was sat there, just as clueless as they were. Mr Schechter shut the door to the office, but remained with them, still making that weird face.

The councillor cleared her throat as Miles and Francis wearily sat down.

“You’re probably wondering why I brought all of you here this morning,” She began and Miles fought the urge to do the largest eyeroll he could, “I’ll just get right to it. Jason Daniels has been released early from his sentence at the juvenile detention centre.”

Then Miles’ whole world slowed. It was like the room had extemporaneously filled with water and he was already drowning. A quick glance over at Francis only made it intensify. His friend was gripping so tightly on the arms of the chair, that his knuckles had gone white. How the hell had he gotten his sentence cut short? Why now of all times?

“Now he won’t be returning to the school and he’s still banned from entering the grounds, however I need to get a couple things straight with you three just in case anything happens.”

Francis’ eyes narrowed and Miles could tell he was holding back an onslaught of curses and burning questions.

“First of all,” She tapped her pen repeatedly against her hand at a rapid pace, “He’s been released on the basis of good behaviour, but I’m just putting it out there that we can’t verify how valid that claim is.”

“What I think, is that the Daniels family has the money for some insane lawyers,” Mr Schechter weighted in, “I find it hard to believe he wasn’t a pain in the ass behind bars as well.”

The councillor then shot him an exasperated look, but Mr Schechter only twitched his head to stand by his point.

“What we’re basically trying to say,” She said behind clenched teeth and then her face drooped, “Is that if he tries to get in contact with any of you, or God forbid approach you in person at all, especially you Francis,” She pointed her pen at him, but Francis was looking down at his knees, “You must tell either me, Mr Schechter, who has taken a personal interest in the case, or if you have reason to believe that you’re in any danger, the police, immediately.”

A moment of eerie silence passed where each of the teenagers were just trying to gather their thoughts and honestly try not to freak out – at least that’s what Miles was doing. He looked over at Hunter, who appeared a bit more conflicted than worried, which made Miles want to punch him. Sure, he’d apologised once, but never to Francis, at least to his knowledge. He was pretty confident that they hadn’t spoken to each other a single time since the incident.

Then all of a sudden, Francis muttered, “You really think he’s going to give us a warning if he wants to try to kill me again?”

His voice was stone-cold, almost icy, and it felt like a sword was plunged through Miles’ chest. Miles tried shooting him a look of solidarity, but he was glaring directly at the councillor with his now doe-like eyes.

“Francis, you mustn’t assume that that is his intention,” She said evenly, clearly not finished but Francis shakily got to his feet.

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Reflexively, Miles almost bolted after him, but the councillor put her hand up to tell him to wait. Instead, Mr Schechter went searching and soon after, she dismissed Hunter so that it was just her and Miles left in the office. She put her head in her hands and Miles crossed his arms over his chest.

“He reminds me so much of your sister,” She made a pathetic chuckle, removing her glasses to rub her eyes.

Miles raised his eyebrow at her.

“Impulsive,” She stated, forming a modest smile and then straightened her posture, “Will you do a favour for me, Miles?”

“Depends what it is,” He put dryly, but she didn’t seem to mind. He had no idea how she could’ve expected Francis to react any differently than he did. If anything, that was probably the tamest outcome.

“I know you two are around each other a lot anyway,” God, she didn’t even know the half of it, “But, I need to you keep an even closer eye on Francis now. Make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”

“I’ll have you know, he’s not the one who picks fights ma’am,” He let the bitterness seep through, “It’s people like Jason who decide it’s well in their right to use him as a punching bag because they think they can get away with it. And let’s face it, they can and they have.”

“I know, I know,” She grimaced, “But now with Jason’s premature release, I hate to say it, but he’s vulnerable and I think you’re the only person who could actually have a shot at preventing him from making any rash decisions.”

“Bold of you to assume that I haven’t figured all this out myself already,” He spat and began making his way out the door.

However, just before he left, the councillor managed to say one final thing.

“But remember, he’s not your responsibility!”

She’d said that to him many times before and every time, he shot back saying, “I know!”

At least, he thought he did.

Upon checking his watch, he made the horrifying realisation that his first lesson had already started and he’d have to do that awkward waddle to a random seat as he entered. Fuck that. Instead, he made a b-line to the nearest restroom, planning on hiding there to avoid that, but also fully absorb what he’d been told. He had no idea where Francis was, though he wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing exactly the same thing Miles was that moment. If that was the case however, they’d picked different restrooms as the one he’d walked into was empty.

Locking the stall door and sitting on the lid of the toilet, ensuring his feet weren’t visible from the gap underneath, Miles could feel his heart-rate spike. It was like, all of a sudden, he couldn’t let his guard down at all. The safety blanket that had granted him peace of mind was ripped away from him. Torn up and thrown in a dumpster. He stared down at himself and found that he was shaking, violently. But he couldn’t make sense of it. Realistically, he wasn’t the one in danger. Although it had taken him a good chunk of their sophomore year, eventually Francis told Miles some of the finer details about what Jason said to him before going berserk, and from what he gathered, it was a lot more personal than he’d initially thought. Therefore, Miles was in the clear, right? Yet, he couldn’t stop this feeling of impending doom that was closing in on him in the moment.

He had to find Francis.

First, he searched in all the restrooms, but to no avail. Damn, he really was counting on him being in at least one of them, because now he had no clue. Had he gone to lesson after all? No, there was no way. Not after what happened in the office. Then, it hit him.

There was this disused storage closet on the top floor of the building. At some point in their freshman year, Illi and Ray had picked the lock to it and turned it into a hideout of sorts, as the teachers didn’t go in there and none of the students apart from them knew it had been opened. Apparently someone died in there; that was the most popular rumour as to why it was closed off. Similar theories claimed it was generally haunted, some said it was full of asbestos. None of which had been confirmed nor denied. Miles had no knowledge of this closet-turned-hideout until his sophomore year, when Illi finally dropped the secret. They were on the hunt for a new area of the school to smoke without getting caught, as the back of the school was now an absolute no-go. Plus, they now had teachers on duty there, practically at all times anyway. The closet was mostly empty, with a tiny window that was perpetually open, due to the fact none of them could reach that high up to close it. That was a non-issue though; if anything, it was handy.

So, the closet was where they relocated.

After checking around him to make sure no one could see him, he opened the door and promptly closed it behind him. As expected, Francis was sat in there, lit cigarette in hand, leaning against the back wall with the window above him. Miles slouched opposite him against the door. The small size of the room meant one of Miles’ legs was slotted in between Francis’ even when they were both bent at the knee, just to fit.

“Didn’t feel like learning today?” Francis chuckled, taking a puff of his cigarette, smiling warmly at him. God he was so cute, Miles almost forgot about what they’d been told earlier.

“Not particularly,” Miles grinned back, “As much as I would love to be doing pre-calculus right now, it feels like we both have bigger fish to fry,” Francis giggled at the sarcasm.

“We certainly do,” Francis wilted a bit after that, his eyes darting down at his hands as he rubbed at his wrists.

A few moments passed and he eventually glanced back up at Miles before stating, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m surprised you’re not.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not anxious like you are about this,” He sung casually.

Miles gaped at him, “I don’t believe that.”

“I know.”

Readjusting his position on the floor, Miles scoffed, “No one’s gonna blame you for being paranoid, Francis,” The use of his full first name made Francis flinch.

“But what’s the point of being paranoid if it’s not going to change anything?” He put out his smoke and then lit a new one up just as rapidly, “For all we know, he’s been totally reformed and we’re wasting energy on being worried about a non-existent threat.”

When Miles quirked his eyebrow at him, Francis rolled his eyes and grunted, “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

“Whatever works for you I guess,” Miles sighed, “I’m fucking terrified and I think you’re crazy if you truly aren’t.”

“And you are well within your right to be,” He hated how sincere Francis was, “I’m really more livid than anything.”

“I definitely don’t blame you for that.”

Then, it never came up for the rest of the day. It wasn’t like neither of them were thinking about it, Miles couldn’t get it out of his head and it was obvious that Francis was being weighed down by it, regardless of what he said. Though he wouldn’t bring it up, Miles could virtually feel the tensity radiating off his friend. He was thoroughly freaked, that was for sure. No amount of dismissal could hide that. Miles wasn’t any better of course, he was shocked when he felt himself begin to fall asleep. However, for a moment just before he passed out, he could’ve sworn he felt Francis trembling against him.

<3

Miles was awoken by thrashing. Not his own, but Francis’. Restless and panicked. Desperate. Blinking away the grogginess, Miles put his glasses on and narrowly dodged a hand that had swung at him. He’d learned the hard way that these violent movements could not only hurt him, but would more often make Francis hurt himself. One of the things he’d always do, was claw at his neck, which Miles knew what it meant, he just didn’t like thinking about it too much, so he’d occupy his focus with restraining his arms before trying to wake him up.

“Stop!” Francis yelped and Miles winced. He hated how real the fear in his voice always sounded. Francis’ arms jerked in Miles’ grip, presumably to try and grasp at his leg.

Gently shaking him by the shoulder and holding him close, Miles whispered, “You’re safe, it’s not real,” A couple times until he felt the boy go still and then pulled away.

Francis’ eyes were half-open and dull, looking more sullen than anything. He sat up, holding himself tightly, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the sweat upon his skin. Miles kept his distance for the moment. He knew that closeness could sometimes make things worse for Francis and the last thing he wanted to do was make him even more uncomfortable. Taking deep breaths, eventually he calmed down enough to remain still and he moved his hands in order to hold up his head.

“You okay?” Miles asked, more nervously than he intended.

Francis sighed and then whispered, “Yeah,” before turning his voice back to a more normal tone, “It’s not exactly pleasant though.” Miles really agreed.

Generally, the conversation would end there after one of Francis’ dreams and they’d try to go back to sleep and it seemed that was where Francis was going, but Miles wasn’t satisfied. They had never spoken at all about his nightmares, apart from him confirming what they were about. Sure, Miles never officially told Francis what his dreams were, but considering the fact they were recalling a part of his and Illi’s life that he thought wasn’t his story to tell, he thought that was justified. These nightmares on the other hand, were no such thing, yet Francis refused to talk about them. Not even to comment on their accuracy. But now he felt an opportunity arise to finally get some more out of him. Y’know, so Miles knew what Jason was likely to do in a situation where either of them encountered him. Other than stabbing of course, he knew about that.

“Are the dreams direct rips from what actually happened? They don’t do that funky thing mine did where they change parts of it?”

“Yep,” Francis replied briskly, in a way that was definitely trying to make Miles shut up about it, and he laid back down on the bed, on his side so he was facing away from him.

Rather than giving up this time like he would normally, Miles kept prying, “When do they start and end? I mean, I’m assuming they end when you pass out in the flashback, but do they start at the same point every time or does it change?”

“They always start at the point where I left the library,” He was audibly annoyed now, his tone getting steadily sharper and raising in volume, “And they end where I died, not where I passed out.”

Wait, what?

That comment threw Miles off so severely, he pushed aside all of his previous questions to the backburner so he could process what it meant. He thought Francis couldn’t recollect anything after he fainted; was he lying before, or did he randomly start remembering things after a while?

Was that even possible?

“Hold on, what do you mean they end when you died?” His voice peaked slightly and he all of a sudden became conscious of the fact his parents were asleep across the hall, “You mean, you actually felt yourself die?”

A period of quietness passed and then Francis finally responded, “Can we not talk about this now?”

“No, we’re talking about this, Fran. You’re telling me that you can tell when you died?” The feeling of fascination was swiftly devolving into horror and Miles sensed himself becoming frantic.

“Stop saying that, Miles!” He snapped, abruptly sitting back up and staring deeply into Miles’ eyes, tears streaming down his face. So, he did. He felt sick again.

Francis’ voice broke and the sentence came out more like a mutter, “Please. Just forget I said anything, I don’t know, it’s probably not even that.”

Miles tried putting his hand on Francis’ shoulder, but he shrugged him away and went straight back to facing away from him as he laid down.

“I’m sorry,” Miles muttered pathetically. Francis didn’t say anything.

Chapter Text

It was safe to say that Miles didn’t get back to sleep that night. Francis did; it only took a couple minutes for him to start snoring again. Combing through what they’d both said, over and over again, Miles promptly realised that he’d been a huge dickhead. But he just couldn’t rationalise what Francis had told him. Out of anyone, he felt like he should be able to understand and even relate to knowing what it felt like to die, but he didn’t remember anything from when it was him on death’s door. Actually, he didn’t recall having that asthma attack in the park at all, only waking up in hospital a few days afterwards. Maybe Francis was indeed full of bullshit, but Miles couldn’t buy into that idea in any sense. Francis was not the kind of guy to drop something like that on just a hunch, he must’ve truly believed that he felt it, otherwise he would’ve kept his mouth shut.

When the sun began peeking through the curtains and casting a pale yellow glow into the room, Miles decided to bite the bullet and get up. There was no way he was going to fall asleep before his alarm was meant to sound anyway and even if he did, the duration spent resting would be negligible. It was much easier to crawl out of the bed this time as a direct result of Francis moving as far away from him as he could after their exchange a couple hours prior. He couldn’t lie, Miles loathed that Francis did that. He couldn’t tell whether he purposefully distanced himself physically like that just to upset him or whether it was some sort of instinct or even coping mechanism for Francis. Strangely enough, situations such as this were some of the moments that made Miles feel like they were a couple the most. At least he’d not been banished to the couch yet, though maybe that was only out of courtesy, as it was his house after all.

The steps creaked as he shuffled his way to the kitchen with only one goal in mind. Coffee. After a few minutes of staring at the dark liquid dripping agonisingly slow into the pot, Miles decided to use this time to call Ray, who was a masochist in the way that he was always awake this early in the morning; something to do with early-day guitar practice assisting his flow for the day. He had no doubt that Illi had already filled him in on the whole Francis being kicked out situation, but it wasn’t going to hurt to check. Lo and behold though, he was well-aware and was more concerned about Miles actually.

“You know Miles, people usually ask their crush on dates before asking them to move in with them,” Coming out of anyone else’s mouth, that comment would’ve sounded like a non-serious jab, but somehow Ray made it sound intensely sincere.

“Yeah, but people’s crushes also don’t tend to suddenly become homeless because of something you undeniably contributed to,” He would never say this directly to Francis, as he knew exactly how he’d respond, but Miles did feel partially responsible for it on account of the whole his parents were convinced they were dating detail. God, if only. In the past few months, Miles had started to wonder if it was even worth trying anymore and now this made him confident that he probably shouldn’t take the trouble. If anything was going to send him spiralling back into sexuality-related self-loathing, it was being kicked out by your parents because of said sexuality.

“I’m just saying, you can’t try to keep him forever,” Miles took a deep breath to remind himself that these quips about the ultimate fuckup of his life were still deserved and still important, “Also, his parents are just batshit insane, there’s no denying that, so I’m gonna stop that remorse-fest before it even begins.”

“Let an ex-catholic feel guilt, Ray. It’s what we’re best at.”

“Amen to that…pun intended.”

Only a couple minutes after the phone call ended, Francis emerged seemingly out of nowhere. Either he had gotten down the stairs unbelievably quietly or Miles was really that distracted by his utterly blissful mug of coffee. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen and just lingered, which to be fair, was something he did a lot, with his hair sticking in truly a wide range of angles and – speaking of Catholicism – his rosary dangling wonkily from his neck, having apparently wriggled its way out from under his shirt. Usually, he would put it in his pocket or keep it in his hands while sleeping due to it being a choking hazard, but he’d kept it on that night. Miles tried to ignore the nose-dive his chest did when he saw it.

“Morning,” Francis then sniffled which immediately made Miles’ brain go ‘oh fuck he’s getting sick again’. It shouldn’t have caught him off guard at all, heck he’d predicted that this was going to happen himself, but he’d almost thought that he’d gotten lucky. Other than that though, he seemed thoroughly unbothered.

“You’re up early.”

“Speak for yourself,” Francis poured himself his own cup of coffee, “Also, your alarms set for seven, and it’s currently five-past-seven, so you should really be able to put-two-and-two together,” He remarked sarcastically, grinning slightly when Miles face-palmed. Then, Francis set his mug down on the counter, left the room and returned a few seconds later with both a box of Tylenol and a bottle of Ibuprofen.

“Your leg?” Miles asked, finishing off his drink and putting the mug in the sink.

“Headache actually,” Francis swallowed both medications in one gulp of coffee, “My leg only hurts the normal amount.”

“Didn’t the doctor say the normal amount of pain was none?” He raised his eyebrow sceptically but Francis just smirked.

“Yes, but Dr Cranford doesn’t know that people treat me like a human bowling pin,” He explained dryly.

Only then, did he seem to realise that his rosary was showing and he hurriedly shoved it back under his shirt, in the same fashion as a teenager hiding alcohol from their parents. Although it did make him feel sick to his stomach seeing it, Miles obviously wasn’t going to say anything about it. As much as this frustrated him, he didn’t know everything about what was going on in Francis’ head, and if wearing the rosary was just something that eased a nerve in him, there was obviously nothing wrong with that. He was still worried however, that it wasn’t just that.

“That’s true,” Miles tried to brush past it.

Francis must’ve sensed the discomfort though, as he quickly excused himself to go get ready for school. Miles washed both his and Francis’ mugs with the tap, put them on the drying rack and hunched himself over the sink, taking a moment to breathe-away the congestion in his mind. At least he didn’t seem too pissed off about Miles digging into his subconscious earlier, though he wasn’t convinced he wasn’t.

It had been a rough couple of weeks. They really needed a break.

What made the morning suck even more, was that they had first period gym class, and they were doing volleyball of all things. Since St Matthews required its students to do gym for all four years, Francis couldn’t necessarily get out of doing gym, however, both the councillor and the coach acknowledged that making him do any kind of sports was unfair and probably wouldn’t end well. This led to them making him some kind of assistant to the coach during the lessons, acting as an umpire most of the time or helping move equipment around. Francis despised this, though he usually couldn’t be asked to kick up a fuss, so he’d just follow orders with a massive scowl on his face. He spent most of his time sat at the sides, watching the games happen, watching Miles. It wasn’t like Miles was an interesting person to watch, especially during volleyball, where he normally just stood there and hoped the ball wouldn’t come near him. Yet, every time he glanced over at his friend, he always was already looking straight back, a modest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After being basically screamed at by half his classmates after accidentally hitting the ball into the net, even though he only touched it out of reflex to protect his face from getting smacked by it, Miles requested to sit out. Luckily, the coach normally let him, as to not repeat the incident in their sophomore year where he didn’t allow him to sit out, and he had an asthma attack about a minute later. Most of the times when he asked nowadays, it wasn’t because his lungs were about to shut down, but Francis always got this anxious look on his face as if that was going to occur.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Physically? Sure,” Miles sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“Yeah, I don’t miss that,” Francis fiddled with one of the rings on his fingers, “It’s not like you’re playing for the team, it’s literally just an hour of mandatory hell.”

They went quiet for a few minutes, just observing the game, not really paying attention to anything specific, but a frog in Miles’ throat was desperate to leap out, and he eventually lost the battle to keep it inside.

“I’m sorry for being a dick last…night? This morning? Whatever time it was, it doesn’t matter,” The words felt like running water coming out of his mouth.

Francis appeared to be surprised at the spontaneous apology, but not irritated that Miles was bringing it up now, thankfully, “Eh, it’s okay Miles, I get it. I kinda dropped something huge on you, I probably should’ve expected that you’d be freaked out by it. Jeez, I’ve done that quite a bit lately, haven’t I?”

“Well, a lot of big things have come to a head recently, it’s not exactly your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” Francis pressed his foot against Miles’, and Miles could’ve sworn he heard someone distantly shout ‘faggot!’ at them. The giggle that erupted out of Francis confirmed that he wasn’t imagining things, “Wow, people get angry at the smallest of things.”

“God forbid two guys sit closer than five feet away from each other,” Miles snorted, “Absolute carnage.”

“I bet if they saw the way we sleep at night, actual steam would come out their ears,” Francis smirked.

“Their loss honestly; imagine having to roll out a blow-up mattress or having to tear apart a couch just to have a sleepover. Couldn’t be us.”

They fist-bumped.

Miles had no memory of the classes between gym and lunch as, surprise surprise, he fell asleep in both of them, which also landed him a detention, as they had a substitute for English this time, who didn’t have the loss of hope for him pre-installed in his mind like their usual teacher. As of junior year, Francis had actually started paying attention in lesson. In his words, apparently he ‘didn’t need a piece of paper to add to the things calling him a failure’, which sure, whatever. Miles didn’t think Francis was a failure by any metric, but he wasn’t going to protest him trying to get his grades up. Now, this would’ve been great for Miles if he could copy Francis’ notes, but the guy’s handwriting was the weirdest combination of cursive and not-cursive, that it took Miles a million years to decode a single sentence.

“It was a product of my rebellion,” Francis told him, “Both elementary and my parents hammered cursive into my wrists like they were nails at a crucifixion,” Odd analogy, but okay, “So, in middle school when it was no longer required, I forced myself to change my handwriting to the least-cursive letters I could manage. Now, they’ve merged into an absolute mess, that only I can read.”

They’d never moved from the stone steps for lunch after Ray and Illi left, because the idea of it just felt wrong. Like the world would start spinning the opposite way if they dared relocate. Though this had the downside of the fact that they were out in the open in the same place every day: a bully’s dream. By the time the bell rang for their next class, they’d both fallen victim to two separate sandwiches, which only pissed Francis off because it was a waste of food. Miles could name a hundred other reasons as to why he didn’t like getting sandwiches thrown at him – number one being they fall apart on impact – but Francis only ever mentioned that one. Either he was crazy desensitised to projectile PB&Js, or that factor just made him disproportionately enraged.

At least they had music right after and they finally had it together, as they’d been able to choose it as an elective, which decreased the class number to just one (small) class. Seriously, there wasn’t more than twelve of them in total in there, and the others were a mixture of quiet and generally alright kids. Actually, Francis and Miles shared all of their classes now, as they’d picked all of the same electives and they’d managed to score the same ones for their core subjects. Maybe luck was on their side, but then again, it was definitely possible that it was done on purpose. The councillor denied this completely when Miles asked her about it, but something told him that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. It wasn’t like he was complaining though.

As soon as everyone was settled in the class, Mr Schechter put everyone on a listening task to do, and then motioned for Miles and Francis to come with him for a moment. They exited the main classroom to one of the side-practice rooms, and there it was, the weird face again! Now, Miles remembered where he’d seen it before, Illi and Ray’s graduation, when all the stuff with Jason was still fresh but Francis was out of hospital. Then, Miles wondered whether Mr Schechter actually had managed to find Francis after he’d stormed out of the councillor’s office the previous day.

“Are you two doing okay? Y’know, now that you’ve had time to process everything,” His eyes bugged out, it was kind of unnerving to look at. That guy seemed like he’d spent almost his whole life as cool as a cucumber, the rare moments where he didn’t look gloriously unbothered were slightly uncanny.

“Peachy,” Francis snarled, but rather than being annoyed about the attitude, Mr Schechter just looked at him with pity, “No, I’m so okay with the fact that my attempted murderer is now walking free and could very easily track us down anytime he wants.”

The use of the word ‘us’ initially threw Miles off a little, but soon he clocked that he was talking about him. As in, Francis thought it was plausible that Miles was at risk too. Hearing it come from him made all of it seem too real – now it wasn’t just him being irrationally paranoid. He felt his hands begin to get sweaty.

“Look, I understand that you’re furious, I am too, but…” He made a deep, exasperated sigh, “Unfortunately, we can’t do much about it, so our priority is making sure you two are safe.”

“For God’s sake Schechter, he lives in our neighbourhood!” Francis threw his hand around exclamatorily, “He knows where my house is!” For a second, Miles forgot that barely anyone knew Francis had been kicked out and he almost made a foolish comment about it.

“What about yours, Miles?” The teacher asked, scrunching his face slightly.

“Does he know where it is? Uhh…” He actually had to think about that for a moment, “Not to my knowledge? But, I mean, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out, everyone kind of knows everyone round there.”

“Well make sure you don’t go broadcasting your address unnecessarily to people, especially if they’re asking you specifically. We don’t know how many students here are still in contact with Jason or will try to regain it,” Francis widened his eyes as if he’d realised something, but didn’t say anything.

“Wasn’t exactly planning on it,” Miles huffed. He felt a little insulted at the assumption that they weren’t going to be careful; he’d spent the majority of the drive home the day before checking his mirrors to make sure no one was following them, “But I think we’re ignoring what’ll actually make a difference. What do we do if we encounter him in person?”

Francis then nodded urgently, “And don’t say call the goddamn cops, you know that it’s the last thing both of us would do in that situation.”

The teacher squinted his eyes, “I’m not even going to try to argue with you,” He sighed and thought about it, “I guess even if you did call the police, you’d have to find a way to minimise the danger before they get there.”

“God, if Jason hadn’t poked about a thousand holds in my leg, I probably would be able to hold my own if it’s a confrontation he’s looking for,” Francis’ grip tightened around his cane, “But he did, and now I can’t fight for shit.”

“If you assume things will get physical, then they will,” Mr Schechter said sternly and the juniors looked at each other, both trying not to crack jokes that would definitely be inappropriate to say in front of a teacher, “You can’t antagonise him if you come across him, because that’ll only escalate things before they’ve even happened.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t assume he’s going to attack us, then he holds the element of surprise over us and oh no he’s finished the job he started in freshman year!” Francis spat, and both Miles and Mr Schechter winced, but he didn’t back down, “What else do I have to give for him to finally be removed from my life? An arm? My other leg? My throat? I didn’t antagonise him, his brother or Hunter when they cornered me behind the school, but I still ended up in a week-long coma!”

Mr Schechter just stood there, aghast for a while. He wasn’t speechless per-say; it was more like he wanted to say a million things but was convinced something equivalent to an atomic bomb would go off if he did. To be fair, Miles was in a similar position.

Eventually, he sighed in resignation but a small smile appeared on his face, “Just…you two know I’m here if you need anything.”

He was clearly directing that more to Francis than Miles, which could either mean he knew something was up or he thought Francis needed to hear it more. Either could’ve been true. There was no way Mr Schechter didn’t at least somewhat know about Francis’ shitty parents; his involvement with the band and perhaps even some communication with the councillor made the likelihood that he was clueless very slim. The councillor didn’t exactly know about Francis’ situation, but if she hadn’t figured out to an extent that he was being neglected, she was either terrible at her job or just plain-unobservant. Though, if she had realised, it wasn’t like she could do much about it. Most of her evidence was just speculation and Francis sure as hell wasn’t going to fess up. Especially not to her.

“Also, Miles, you have cheese in your hair,” The teacher added before slinking back into the classroom.

“You asshole!” Miles shouted at Francis while desperately running his hands through his hair to find the piece of food-shrapnel, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Francis bit his lip as he tried to stifle what was surely a burst of laughter, “I wanted to see how long it would be there before you noticed.”

<3

Detention was a type of brutal torture which seemed to be tailored to Miles’ nightmares. He already had trouble with being in his own mind, but when it was only his thoughts that acted as a stimulus in an otherwise sensory-deprived room, they basically consumed him. Not only that, but he hated leaving Francis by himself after school and every five minutes he had to stop himself from bolting out of the classroom to make sure he knew exactly where he was. Maybe it was silly, it wasn’t like his friend was this helpless child that needed to be monitored like a fucking baby. Francis was seventeen and probably the most capable person their age at handling tough situations, that Miles knew of. But, despite being very aware of this, Miles couldn’t help but get these flashes in his brain of his best friend in his lap, missing a pulse and not breathing.

This was a long fucking detention. For something as harmless as sleeping in lesson, an hour felt excessive. Miles would’ve just slept through it if there wasn’t that goddamn substitute staring right into his soul the whole time. Perhaps that was the crux of the punishment – giving him the perfect conditions to have a nap but stripping that ability away from him. When he was finally released though, it seemed that someone got some well-deserved rest. Francis always stayed in the library if Miles had a detention and he didn’t, this time being no different, but as he arrived, he spotted his friend slumped over on the desk behind one of the computers, snoring away. Miles got closer, expecting to see Cool Math Games on the screen like normal, but strangely enough, Francis was evidently looking at apartment listings in the city. An uncomfortably familiar tightness in Miles’ chest made itself known, but he ignored it and shook Francis’ arm to wake him up.

“You know you can get some serious neck and back pain from sleeping like this?” Miles couldn’t help but display a cheesy grin, “Trust me, I would know.”

It didn’t take long for Francis to stir and then flush a bit red, “M’sorry,” His voice was croaky and he rubbed his eyes – either he really was that tired, or that was one hell of a nap, “I didn’t realise I drifted off.”

“Don’t worry about it, let’s get you into an actual bed, alright?” Francis flipped Miles off when he giggled at him.

Originally, Miles was going to ask him about what was up with the apartment searching in the car, but he changed his mind when he fully took in how exhausted Francis looked and let that topic wait until he’d rested a bit. Practically as soon as they got back to the house, Francis passed out again, quick as a light-switch, on Miles’ bed this time. Ever since their freshman year, Francis slept a lot more, got tired faster. Normal hangouts would turn into sleepovers often, as Miles wouldn’t have the heart to wake him up and tell him to go back to his house. Not that he wanted him to anyway. Maybe this time however, it was more the fact that he was undeniably getting sick. It wasn’t even 5pm though, so Miles resorted to calling Illi for a catchup. It occurred to him that she didn’t know Jason had been released early, as even though it was bound to be covered by local news soon, it hadn’t been yet, not that she got local news anymore, anyway. He debated letting her know, but inevitably decided against it; there was no universe in which she wasn’t going to freak out about it grandly and gutturally, and he knew it was probably for the best if she focused on something other than what was going on back home.

She was busy. She had other, more important things to think about.

<3

As a result of what was an astonishingly shitty few days, Miles didn’t end up coming across a decent opportunity to ask Francis about the sudden apartment-searching until the weekend. First, it was Francis’ full descent into his illness, and despite the fact that he insisted on going into school, otherwise he’d get ‘skinned by the councillor’ (his words), he spent most of his time in the nurse’s office for a cocktail of reasons for the remainder of the week. Mostly from migraines and stomach pain, but both almost fainting and coughing fits were sprinkled in there for variety. Not only that, but there appeared to be some sort of bug up square-face’s ass that week, as him and some of the other members of the lacrosse team stepped up their levels of obnoxiousness by about ten. Both of them were victims to this, though like usual, Francis couldn’t withstand it as well as he could. Then, once there were home, Francis just slept through the whole evening until he had to go to school again.

At first, it seemed as though Francis was going to try and go to work after all of that, but Miles successfully talked him out of it on the grounds of it only extending how long he was going to be sick.

“You’re gonna get me fired, y’know?” He groaned after calling his manager, breathing heavily as he shifted his position on the bed to face Miles.

“She can’t sack you for medical reasons, she has a note from Dr Wren about all your problems, it’s not like you didn’t warn her,” Miles reasoned, pulling on his shirt to make him lie down, “Plus, I’m pretty sure you can sue her if she does.”

Francis made a disagreeing hum but didn’t say anything further, so Miles continued.

“It’s really not the end of the world if you lose that Blockbuster job though. We’re always here if you need any help, and you’re underpaid there anyway,” He commented absentmindedly, but it suddenly felt as if the room had gotten colder.

Soon, Miles figured out that was because Francis had moved away from him, staring at him like he’d just cursed him and his ancestors, “Not the end of the world?”

“Uhh…yeah?”

Francis squinted his eyes, “You really don’t get it, do you?” He scoffed and a stone dropped in Miles’ chest, “Miles, as much as I know you’d love me to live with you for as long as you please, you’ve got to understand that I can’t do that.”

The weird thing was that Francis didn’t sound angry at all. There was this sort of remorse in his voice instead and Miles couldn’t decide whether he preferred that or not. He repressed the urge to dumbly say ‘Why not?’.

“I was surprised at this, but my parents did actually hand over my college savings money, and this job means I can afford food without having to dip into that.”

“But you don’t have to buy your food when you’re here!” Miles insisted, “We can cover that, it’s really no issue!”

Francis let out what Miles could only describe as a growl, “Not when I eventually leave here, Miles! And, as much as I would like to say that my college fund could cover everything for when I do, that’s just not the way it is. Ensuring I stay in a job, means I can get my own place a lot earlier.”

“Why the rush though?” Miles asked. It was a genuine question, he didn’t quite understand why he was so eager to leave, “Also, you may not get the chance regardless, you can’t rent places until you’re eighteen,” That’s what his parents had told him at least.

“I’ll-” He paused to think before he spoke again, “I’ll figure it out. Use my fake ID, whatever.”

“What about college?” His voice turned whispery, like he was trying to breath out deeply while he was speaking, “Don’t you want to go? If you stay here until the end of high school, you can save that fund for what it was meant for.”

Francis turned his head away from him, “That’s assuming I could even get in,” He laughed, but with no real warmth to it, “Even if by some miracle I managed to get my grades up off the floor, they’d take one look at my attendance and throw my application straight into the garbage!”

The fact that Miles couldn’t deny that frustrated him, so he just sighed, let his nerves relax a little and asked, “But why are you so urgent to leave? You’ve only been here a couple of days and you’re already looking at apartments before you’ve had the time to wind down and process everything that’s happened. Also, the longer you stay here before getting your own place, the more time you’ll have to figure out what you want to do after high school before your college fund runs out.”

For a few seconds, Miles thought he’d finally gotten through to him when Francis paused for a while, not seeming to know how to respond. However, he then muttered, “I have processed everything,” Debatable, but Miles didn’t feel like opening up a new argument, they’d bickered enough these past couple days, “The reason I need to move out soon, is because…” His words quivered slightly, “Because of Jason.”

“What?” He spluttered out before he could think about what he could possibly mean by that.

“You said it yourself to Schechter earlier,” He was looking back directly into Miles’ eyes now, “Everyone knows everyone in this neighbourhood. If my parents found out that I was crashing with you of all people, not only would they stir trouble between them, but they could very easily tell Jason’s parents your address. They go to the same church. I-… I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”

Miles blinked at him a couple of times, purely in disbelief, “You think I care about that?”

“No,” Francis acknowledged, a bit sheepish, “But I do.”

“Look Fran, I didn’t want to say this, but I know you know I’m right; if Jason wants to find us, he’s perfectly capable of doing so, with or without your parents,” Francis twitched his mouth to the side, which is how Miles knew he couldn’t refute that, “Now stop being persistent and stop pretending you’re on borrowed time to do all this, because you are not!”

That was the end of that, both of them knew it. Miles also knew this wasn’t going to prevent Francis from trying to move out as soon as he could, however he hoped this would make him think things over a bit more considerately and logically from this point onwards. His message had gotten through to him at least.

“God, why is this so hard?” Francis murmured to himself but Miles heard every syllable clearly.

Miles then hugged him tightly, “You’re doing great, Fran.”

Almost like a crack in a dam had finally ruptured open, Francis burst into sobs. Ever since the previous Saturday, Francis had teared up, but never bawled like this. It sounded weird, but Miles was relieved. He just held him while he emptied out all these built up emotions. The noises coming from his throat were close to screams, but not quite, like he was trying to hold back that one bit whilst everything else fell to pieces. Miles had no idea how long Francis had been holding this in for, whether he’d even cried on his birthday while he was trying to fall asleep in his car. He wondered what his friend’s plan even was before he found him, if he was trying to make one in the first place. Would he have gone back to school? There was no way he thought that Miles wasn’t going to do everything in his power to locate him, with or without the authorities, if he remained no-contact. Maybe he’d been waiting for it.

Francis composed himself after seemingly draining the bank of tears he’d stored up, and after squeezing him a bit tighter for a few moments, Miles got up to get him some water. Once he’d gotten back to the bedroom, Francis was actually stood up, contemplatively staring out of the window. Miles resisted the urge to embrace him from behind.

“Y’know, there’s one huge upside to you getting your own place,” Miles handed him the glass and remained next to him. Francis looked at him to tell him to continue, “We’ll have a place to hang out that isn’t this house.”

“Nothing is stopping us from hanging out elsewhere. We can just go into the city and do stuff. Or the park if you’re that desperate to get ravaged by mosquitos,” Francis giggled slightly and it was like music to Miles’ ears, especially after what had just unfolded.

“Yet, we never do,” Miles thought for a second, and his heart pounded slightly when he asked, “Do you want to? Like, go out places more?”

Francis’ mouth twitched, “I don’t know,” All of a sudden, he sounded sad again, “I’m sort of limited with how much I can do because of my dodgy leg, and plus, so many things cost money.”

“We can manage, I mean it’s not like we have to do it regularly. Just every once in a while we can venture into the outer world. Go to an arcade or something,” He smiled modestly at his friend and fortunately, Francis smiled back.

“That would be nice.”

<3

“You have done this before, right?” Miles asked, sifting through the selection of multicoloured metal balls to find a number that he could actually lift but that wouldn’t make him look like a noodle-armed wuss.

“Like once or twice, but it was a long time ago now,” For God-knows-what reason, Francis appeared nervous, on edge. He was sat, twiddling his thumbs with a crooked, forced-looking smile while he was watching Miles do his turn. Six out of ten pins in total, which was fine, he supposed. He was kind of rusty, so maybe when he got into the rhythm of things he would-

“Holy shit, score!” Miles heard Francis yell from behind. He hadn’t even realised his friend had begun his turn yet and now he’d missed him getting a strike on his first go – price to pay for disassociation he guessed.

Only then, did he understand he was fucked.

“Now c’mon Miles, show me what you really got this time!” He patted Miles on the back and Miles had to keep his head turned towards the alley to hide the fact he’d gone bright red. Taking Francis bowling was a terrible idea; his inability to do gym and the lack of playing Cool Maths Games on the school computers for a while had made Miles forget how competitive Francis could get.

He could foresee this not being much of a competition though – it was going to be a massacre.

After his failed attempt at a spare as per rolling the ball into the gutter, he’d practically resigned himself to the fate of what was definitely going to be an endless rollout of jokes and jabs at him about his mediocre performance. He didn’t mind too much though, at least Francis had eased up a bit.

By the middle of the set, Francis was in the lead by a long shot, and Miles was sure if he did the maths, it was probably impossible for him to catch up. He put Francis’ skill down to the fact that he did have greater upper-body strength than Miles, and possibly a lucky estimate of some sort of a technique. He was in the lead because of that, totally not because Miles was consistently throwing his ball into the gutter. Totally. It wasn’t embarrassing at all to keep making that mistake and seeing Francis’ face bare a mixture of amusement and pity every time he did it. Maybe it was a little odd that he still felt the need to impress him, even after two-and-a-bit years and the many times he’d made a much bigger fool of himself during that period, but well…it was just how he was.

When Miles was about to do a throw that was 100% going to end up in the gutter regardless of any sort of emotional whiplash he was about to experience, Francis asked him, “Are you going to ask someone out to prom this year?”

Miles dropped the ball, it rolling slightly but stopping not too far past the line, so he did a pathetic nudge with his foot to hopefully keep it going until it reached the pins. After a brief moment of sheer panic, Miles eventually stuttered out, “Uh, m-maybe? I-I haven’t thought much about it.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘yes, will you go to prom with me?’ but he probably would’ve sooner vomited than manage to say that simple sentence. However, it became ever more tempting when Francis visibly deflated.

Instead of acknowledging that though, Francis just smiled and continued, “I just thought it would be a waste if you didn’t. I have no doubt people will ask you, because…I mean,” He made a wild gesture to signify Miles’ whole self, “But I was wondering if there was a girl…or a boy, I guess, that you had in mind.”

Either Francis was genuinely curious and was just being grotesquely awkward about it, or he was trying to signal him something and was doing a poor job at being subtle. The fact that Miles couldn’t figure out which one he believed, was worse than him just knowing it wasn’t the latter.

“Not really. If it’s just a date for the purpose of having someone to slow dance with at prom, it feels really transactional, y’know? Not a lot of meaning behind it,” Miles sat down next to Francis, who hadn’t gotten up to do his go yet.

His friend raised his eyebrow at him, “I’m surprised that in the years you’ve spent at this high school, you’ve never had a girlfriend. What’s stopping you? I know for a fact that at least five girls in our grade are desperate for a taste of you.”

Okay, gross way of putting it, especially with the added glance down at Miles’ crotch that Francis did, making him blush and put his hands over that area.

“I’m just not interested, Fran. Sure, I used to accept people’s advances if I was bored, but it always got too messy for me to be bothered to deal with when they figured that out. The next time I date someone, I want to do it properly,” None of that was a lie, but the omission of one key detail made him feel like he was lying, “What about you, eh?” He tried to spin it around, not only to take the attention off of himself, but also to try and fish something out of Francis, “Anyone catching your eye? Even just for prom?”

“Pfft, like anyone would agree to date me,” Francis laughed, but Miles felt his heart sink.

“Sure people would,” ‘Like me!’ Miles wanted to say, but he held it back, “Not everyone cares for popularity, y’know? And it’s not like you’re lacking in the looks department.”

For a flash, Miles thought he saw Francis blush, but he turned away to finally do his turn too quickly for him to see it accurately.

“Of course you’d say that, that’s what you’re meant to say,” Francis muttered, clearly not intending for Miles to hear him, but he very much could, “Whatever, it’s not like I’m into anyone anyway.”

Despite the fact Miles knew that Francis was almost certainly only saying that to make him drop the interest, he felt his insides churning from the statement.

“You’d be more interested if you spoke to more people other than me,” Miles mentioned offhandedly and just about kicked himself. Why was he trying to get him to date someone else?

“I always thought the plan was for us to go to prom together,” Francis threw the ball and for the first time that afternoon, he got it in the gutter, “As friends,” He quickly added onto the end, not particularly casually.

“It still is the plan!” Miles rectified, getting up to move next to his friend.

“I wouldn’t mind if there was someone else you’d rather go with, y’know?” Francis wouldn’t face him and the hurt in his voice was seeping through and for God’s sake why couldn’t Miles just kiss him and see what would happen?

“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“Then what are you trying to say?”

That I love you and that you’re stupid for not realising this.

“Just forget it, I was curious, that’s all.”

They continued bowling and Francis continued destroying Miles at the game, using his apparent mystical power that allowed him to get spares or strikes every round. It was obvious that Francis didn’t believe him, but had interpreted it in the exact opposite way to what Miles wanted.

Maybe Miles should try to get involved with someone else. Maybe that was the only way he could move on and accept the fact that he and Francis weren’t meant to exist like that. It was probably what was best for the both of them, rather than wasting their lives fighting a losing battle. It had been years and Miles had failed. Failed at making Francis accept who he was. It was starting to look like a lost cause months ago, yet he held on, but for what? Miles didn’t have the guts to do anything and Francis had remained trapped in a vicious cycle of getting comfortable and then something happening making him revert to a nervous wreck if Miles did so much as brush his shoulder. And it hurt, every time. Each time Miles would try to help, he’d either get frustrated and give up or somehow find a way to make it worse. Was this battle really worth the upset and the sleepless nights?

Perhaps that was Francis’ intention in asking him whether he wanted a girlfriend, to tell him to let him go. To assure him that he wouldn’t get in the way if Miles entered a different relationship. Things could be easier for them, being friends and nothing more.

Miles thought back to what Ray had said to him a few weeks back.

“You can’t try to keep him forever.”

Yes, that was a jab at him for a completely different situation, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. In truth, he couldn’t keep him forever. He couldn’t keep holding onto this crush he’d been harbouring for years. Not if it wasn’t meant to be. Somehow, he’d known for a while that this was going to occur. That he was going to give up trying to hold onto a dream. It was just that after all; a dream.

So, a few days later, Miles got a girlfriend.

Her name was Renée, and Miles liked her. She was one of the girls that Francis said was ogling him and was the only one he was kind of friends with. More acquaintances than anything. She was in their music class, she was a drummer and was honestly way out of Miles’ league. Gorgeous, smart, somehow decently popular even though she was very outwardly a metalhead and usually people got kicked in the shins there for looking alternative in any way. When he asked her out, it felt…ordinary. He’d always been asked, never been the one asking, but it was almost exactly like he’d imagined it’d be like based off of movies and TV shows. Sweaty palms, shaky voice and nausea, but then the euphoria of seeing her face light up and her amazed but calm acceptance of his proposition to be his girlfriend and to go on a date. It was nice.

When Miles told Francis, he just blurted it out randomly during a lunchtime as to make it seem like it wasn’t supposed to be a huge deal but immediately felt like a huge asshole when the light in his friend’s eyes went out like a burnt out candle. Nevertheless, Francis congratulated him and grinned like it was the greatest news he’d ever heard and Miles ignored the enlarging pit in his stomach. This was the first step to moving on – that’s what he told himself and he hoped Francis realised this too.

His and Renée’s first date went about as well as it could have. He took her to the same diner they’d all went to after Ray and Illi’s graduation and was just about to apologise for the meagreness of it for a first date, when she exclaimed how much she loved the place too. This led to them sharing stories about the previous times they’d gone and when Miles mentioned the band, she jerked her head up from the milkshake she was basically chugging and said, “Oh yeah, I saw you guys at the festival you played around Christmas freshman year. Then again once or twice after that I think. Y’all were good, it’s a shame you guys don’t play anymore.”

“Yeah well, time stops for no one I guess, we had to move onto other things,” God if Illi had heard him say that, she would’ve cracked up.

The pair had a lot in common in fact, to the point where they were sat, parked outside Renée’s house for a good ten minutes before she went outside because they were so engrossed in the conversation they were having. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he got home that night, but Francis seemed totally normal. Like he’d not even thought about it while he was gone. It was refreshing to be fair, relieving too, but it took him aback nonetheless. He was worried that Francis was just going to suffer in silence, but maybe he was arrogant to think that way. It wasn’t like Miles ever knew for sure that Francis liked him in that way, he’d just assumed he did from how he acted, which could’ve meant absolutely nothing. Even if Francis did have feelings for him at some point, hence possibly why he kissed Miles in their freshman year, it was never guaranteed that those feelings were going to remain. Francis was happy for him, that was for certain.

Illi, on the other hand, was blatantly not.

“You WHAT?” She shouted and Miles was convinced for a second that his ear had started bleeding from that alone, “Tell me I heard that wrong.”

“Nope, I think you heard it perfectly well,” Miles lifted his glasses to rub his eyes.

“What about Francis? Last time I checked, you were still yearning like a sonnet poet, what the fuck changed?”

“Nothing changed, I just got tired of waiting for something to happen between us. I think it’s what’s best for me and him,” He tried to hide that fact that his voice was beginning to shake a little. He was still getting used to all of it.

“Miles you’re a fucking idiot,” Illi was fuming, “Getting a girlfriend isn’t going to fix anything, hell you’re just going to make it worse!”

“Why do you even care so much? I can make my own decisions about what’s good for me,” Miles felt himself start to lose his temper as well.

“Because I care about you Miles, and I think you’re making a huge mistake with this. Not only is this going to desecrate you and Francis, but it’s not fair on your girlfriend either. This is a lose-lose situation for all of you,” She pleaded, but Miles was having none of it.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Illi,” He spat, “I’m updating you about what’s going on in my life, and if you have a problem with it, then keep it to yourself or don’t bother picking up the phone.”

A brief moment of silence followed before Illi replied in a ghostlike voice, “I have no words for you Miles, other than don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He hung up after that.

Who was she to comment on who he decided to date? It wasn’t any of her damn business.

</3

The second date went just about as well as the first, and the third probably even better. Okay, maybe it was only better because they’d had their first kiss in Miles’ car as he was dropping her off again. It didn’t escalate or anything, it was just that; a first kiss. He practically bounced back into his house on a high from it, but his flow was broken just before he opened the door to his bedroom. He heard music, but not music being played through a CD player or anything. It was Francis. He was practicing his acoustic guitar. Miles put his ear up to the keyhole of the door to hear it better – it wasn’t like hearing Francis practice was a new thing obviously, he’d listen to him practice all the time when the band was still a thing. But…well it had been a while and he didn’t want to barge in and disturb him because then he wouldn’t be able to appreciate it for as long.

Miles quickly realised that Francis was singing too, humming some bits and using lyrics on others. It was difficult to put together a structure or even a story to it though, it was fragmented, unfinished. The song itself was kind of melancholy, but Miles couldn’t tell whether that was on purpose or if that was just because it was an acoustic piece. Nevertheless, it was a really pretty arrangement and Miles was ready to just sit there and listen to it for as long as he played it.

However, Francis suddenly stopped after a few minutes and called out, “Miles? Is that you?”

“No…” He responded shiftily. Foiled!

Francis just chuckled though and smiled at him when Miles finally entered the room.

“Sorry, don’t let me interrupt,” He attempted to salvage, but Francis was already putting the guitar back in its case.

“It’s alright, I was just finishing up anyway,” Francis looked back up at Miles, his face twitching slightly and then morphing into a smirk, “You have lipstick on your face by the way.”

Miles’ heart skipped a beat as if he’d been caught doing something bad and he rapidly began trying to wipe it off with his t-shirt.

“Relax dude, I was just letting you know,” He sat back down on the bed, “Wanna put on a movie?”

“Sure.”

They eventually settled on a random action film that they found on one of the channels and Miles mostly zoned out after that. Lord, was he tired. He most likely would’ve just passed out for the night quite soon if Francis hadn’t begun speaking again.

“Miles.”

“Francis,” He already didn’t like where this was going.

“If you uh…” He swallowed, “Want to bring Renée here at any point in the future, just let me know and I can get out the house for as long as you need.”

This felt a bit out of the blue. Firstly, they had barely spoken about Renée since Miles announced they were dating, as Miles wouldn’t want to talk about it to Francis unless he specifically asked, which he didn’t. But what had prompted him to feel the need to bring this up now?

Oh God it was the lipstick wasn’t it?

He’d make sure to look in a mirror before coming in next time.

“No, absolutely not Fran,” Miles responded sternly, “I’m not gonna kick you out so I can spend time with Renée. Where would you even go?”

Francis shrugged, “Just out, I guess. I have a car, I’ll find something to do.”

“Still a no,” He grunted, “We’ve only had three dates so far anyway. If it gets to the point where we want some proper alone time together, I’ll just go to hers.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, I really don’t mind,” A part of Miles was annoyed at the fact that Francis was being so nonchalant about it.

“Forget it, I’m not going to ask that from you.”

“To each your own, I’m just letting you know it’s an option.”

“Thank you,” That came out a bit more curtly than he intended, but Francis just giggled again.

“You’re ridiculous.”

</3

Unlike his sister, Ray was significantly more chill about Miles dating Renée. Mostly because he’d already been told, goddamn Illi, when would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

“Well do you like her?” He asked, sounding unsure, but it was better than the screeching he’d gotten before.

“Yeah, I do,” Miles did have feelings for her, that wasn’t a lie and these feelings had only intensified with every date they’d had.

“Then I’m happy for you,” Miles could hear Ray’s smile through the phone.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Look, I know Illi’s got her issues with this, but it’s only because she’s concerned about you. This is quite a large development for you, especially since you’re still in love with Francis.”

Miles really wanted to argue against that, but found he couldn’t form the words to do so. He had to admit, he respected Ray for his persistent honesty, but it could be jarring sometimes.

“I think this is the right choice for both of us,” He ended up saying, “It is helping me get over him and Francis seems alright, though I’ve not talked to him about it much.”

“This brings me to my next point,” Ray sounded reluctant to continue with what he was going to say and Miles raised his eyebrow despite the fact that Ray couldn’t see it, “I think you should keep an extra eye on both Francis and yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

Ray sighed, “I’m just saying, that if you think that Francis is uh…not coping as well as you thought and/or you feel like your feelings for him are impacting your relationship with Renée, you and Francis should really sit down and actually have a conversation about it.”

The thought of it made Miles feel nauseous, but he saw where Ray was coming from. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that.

“Yeah, I’ll do that, thank you Ray.”

“No problem. But seriously, I’m pleased for you.”

Miles definitely needed to hear that.

</3

“Are we in a recession that I’m not aware of or something, what the fuck happened to affordable rent?” Francis slammed his hands down on the table and made a prompt apology when he remembered they weren’t in the library and was using Miles’ parent’s computer.

“People aren’t usually working with your constraints,” Miles sighed and rubbed his forehead, “And ‘affordable rent’ is an oxymoron.”

“I can’t even manage the ones that look like trap houses, and I’d bet money that a chunk of these have painted-over black mould,” Francis groaned dramatically and slumped in his chair, “I’d take the mould if I had the funds for it.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Miles took control of the computer, “With your shitty health, black mould would send you to the hospital every other week. Think of those medical bills.”

“My parents pay for that, I could manage.”

“Not forever,” Miles sighed scrolling through a barricade of impossible listings, “And you wouldn’t be able to have me over, think of my lungs, Fran,” He whined, widening his eyes and curling his lip pitifully. Francis giggled at that.

“Touché.”

They continued scrolling, but the numbers just read ‘NOPE’ under each one. Looking for even the cheapest apartments wasn’t feasible for them. Though the fund was meant to pay for college, it wasn’t even close to being enough to cover a year of University, let alone rent for an apartment for at least two, so the search was starting to look futile. The maths wasn’t exactly easy either; factoring in food costs was one thing, but fuel varied depending on the location. There were actually a few options further away that originally looked promising, but when they calculated the extra miles to the school, the Blockbuster and Miles’ house, all of them got ruled out instantly. Two hours into the hunt and Francis was tearing his hair out.

“There’s got to be something!” He threw his arms around wildly, almost smacking Miles in the chest. His mission to move out had become increasingly frantic as the days went on, and Miles couldn’t really pin down why. All he could grasp was that he was stressed out of his mind about it. To be fair, they’d been looking almost every day for about a week now and had found jack-shit, if Miles was in his position, he would’ve probably gone a bit insane by now. Instead, Miles was trying to hide the fact he secretly wanted Francis to give up and just live with him until they graduated.

“I mean, do you know anyone who could maybe help?” Miles was just throwing things out there, he wasn’t really expecting Francis to know. Not even he or his parents had a useful contact for this area of things.

His friend seemed to consider it for a few seconds and then it appeared as though a lightbulb had switched on in his head, “I wonder,” was all he murmured, before dialling a number Miles didn’t recognise into his phone and scuttering out of the room.

A couple minutes passed and Francis finally reappeared. He had a modest smile on his face, and Miles disregarded the sinking feeling in his heart.

“Okay, I may have an option,” Francis began, “I have uncle who’s a landlord and he’s said he may be able to let me stay in one of his properties for reduced rent, but that’s only if the couple he’s suspecting are going to move out soon actually move out.”

“What about your parents?” Frankly, the word uncle shook Miles up a bit just from surprise.

“My father and my uncle don’t really get along,” Francis chuckled, clearly reminiscing on some sort of related memory, “So he won’t tell, and even if my parents found out, they wouldn’t kick up a fuss.”

“So is that sorted then? We just have to wait and see when one of his apartments is available?” Miles pushed down the bubbling dread in his whole body.

“Basically yeah,” Francis grinned a bit wider, “It doesn’t seem like we have many other options anyway, but this also solves the legal problems because he’s family and I won’t have to sign a contract. Or, at least, he won’t report me to the police.”

There are other options, you could just continue staying with me, “That’s great, Fran!” Miles hugged him tightly in exuberance and fought back the tears that were trying to form. They weren’t happy tears.

He wasn’t going to stop him from leaving, but that didn’t mean he didn’t desperately want to.

Chapter Text

One thing Miles hadn’t anticipated, was Renée and Francis becoming actual friends. He really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, considering how well Miles got along with her, but he’d assumed that Francis would’ve wanted to distance himself as much as he could from her, but apparently not. Obviously, Miles was ecstatic about this – his girlfriend and his best friend being able to coexist in one space was a huge relief – however, this came with the drawback that they took every opportunity they could to bully him.

“Hey Renée, has Miles taken you bowling yet?” Francis smirked and Miles knew exactly where this was going. They were sat at the stone steps at lunch and Renée was sat in Miles’ lap. Usually, Renée hung out with her own group during school, but they’d just had music and she decided to just stay with them for a while.

“No, he hasn’t,” She turned to face Miles and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And I won’t,” He chided, glaring at Francis to tell him to shut up, but he just grinned mischievously at him and continued.

“Oh c’mon Miles! Take your girl bowling, so you can show her what a glorious victory feels like!”

“Yeah, take me bowling Miles!” Renée joined in, flashing a very similar smile at him.

“God I hate you both,” Miles sighed but chuckled along.

“No you don’t,” Renée giggled and then kissed the side of his mouth, making Miles flush red at an impressive speed.

Francis mocked throwing up and his grin turned more crooked, “Guys, stop being so cute or I may have to vacate the premises,” There was a tinge of bitterness in that, which luckily Renée didn’t seem to notice and she stuck her tongue out at him, but made Miles feel sick to his stomach. Maybe he was overthinking it.

After a couple minutes of peace passed, Renée suddenly asked them, “So how’d you two meet? I don’t think I remember a time where you guys weren’t joined at the hip.”

The question kind of threw both of them off their game, just because they’d forgotten that they’d barely spoken to anyone else apart from each other since Ray and Illi left the school, thus any information about them in the past wasn’t necessarily common knowledge.

“Uh…” Miles began, laughing slightly at the absurdity of their reactions, “It was the first day of freshmen year and we both got detentions from our math teacher.”

“Let me guess,” She squinted her eyes at him, “You fell asleep.”

Francis clapped, “Bingo!”

Then, Renée pointed at the other boy, “Why were you there?”

Miles didn’t know why she sounded so shocked. It was true that Francis didn’t get detention that much anymore, but surely Renée knew something about their reputation back then.

He put his arms up like he was surrendering, “Graffiti of a profane and phallic nature on school property.”

“Penis art in the textbooks,” Miles simplified and Francis burst out laughing.

“God if the school only knew what was coming for them,” He brushed his hair out of his face, “I did everything in my power to piss off the teachers back then.”

“My sister wasn’t exactly a good influence either,” Miles added and Francis nodded in agreement, “Them two were a force to be reckoned with.”

“That was until they disarmed us,” Francis spat and his nose twitched upwards, “A lot of good that did.”

Renée appeared to figure out the subtext, and a quick look at Miles’ face solidified that idea in her mind, “Jason?”

“How much do you know about it?” Francis asked her, narrowing his eyes at her cynically.

“About as much as the papers said abou-”

“Wait, wait, wait- hold on!” Francis interrupted and Miles felt his heard begin to palpitate, “You’re saying the newspapers got to it? I thought the information the police got was classified! Miles did you know about?- Oh God…”

Miles grimaced at him sadly, “I’m sorry, Fran,” His heartbeats only accelerated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it was better if you didn’t know,” He felt helpless. Francis was never meant to find that out, but Miles couldn’t even be mad at Renée because there was no way she could’ve possibly been aware of it.

“What did they say?” Francis turned to Renée. He seemed more hurt than angry about this, which may have been because she was around.

“It was a long time ago, I don’t really remember the details,” She admitted, frowning, “They couldn’t use your names for legal reasons, but everyone kind of knew anyway.”

“I guess I didn’t tell the cops anything I wouldn’t have wanted made public, I did sort of consider this a possibility,” Francis rubbed his eyes and then put his head in his hands.

Then, Miles piped up, “I didn’t read the article, but Illi did. She may have kept it, if you want to see what was in it?”

Francis nodded, “Knowing is better than not, I guess.”

</3

Snooping through Illi’s room always made Miles feel like he was intruding. He considered calling her to ask specifically where it was, but they were still on cooldown from their tiff on the phone, so he decided to just try and find it himself. With Francis’ help, of course. It took them about fifteen minutes, but they eventually found it behind a barrage of random boxes and some stuffed teddies underneath her bed.

“‘Teenager attempts murder on school property’,” Francis read out once he’d brushed some of the dust off the paper, “Miles, I think this is it,” He said with faux-dumbness, but then his face turned darker, “Oh Jesus, they photographed where it happened.”

Miles snatched the paper from him to see for himself, but handed it back when about a million bad memories came rushing back to him all at once and he had to sit down for a moment.

“Yeesh, that’s a lot of blood…but somehow less than I was expecting,” Miles didn’t know how Francis was so indifferent looking at the scene where he almost lost his life, but he also acknowledged that Francis also saw everything from a vastly different perspective from the rest of them, “Heh, gnarly.”

“God, I couldn’t disagree more,” He covered his face with his hands and tried to repress the burgeoning images of that afternoon. Francis wasn’t paying attention though, he was reading the article, which had consumed his attention.

“I was stabbed twenty-three times?” He exclaimed out of the blue, “Those fuckers took the liberty to count?”

“The hospital probably told them,” Miles reasoned miserably and Francis came to sit down next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders and shaking him lightly.

“You okay?” Francis asked, putting down the paper. It felt so wrong, being comforted by the one person that was the most affected by what happened, while he didn’t seem even a little disconcerted about it. But seeing that photo made everything come flooding back to him. It was just…too much.

“No,” He answered honestly, but his mouth pinched at the side to form some sort of a smile, “But, you’re alive and that’s all that matters.”

“I mean, there was a reason you didn’t look at it back then, so it makes sense,” He detached himself from him and Miles mourned the loss of contact, before mentally kicking himself to say that he shouldn’t care about that anymore, “The article only covered the stuff you guys and I told the cops and then some medical-y stuff that I’m assuming is from Dr Wren. Nothing crazy.”

“All of it was crazy,” Miles corrected and Francis twitched his head to accept that, “Which is why Jason should still be in juvie,” He growled. Francis’ silence conveyed a thousand words.

</3

On the first night that Miles asked Francis to give him and Renée some privacy at the house, he convinced himself it was going to be the last.

By this point, they’d been dating for about a month. Christmas was approaching, Illi was coming home soon and all the efforts to help Francis move out had come to a halt while they were waiting for an update from his uncle, which was taking a lot longer than they thought and Miles was fully preparing himself for Francis to be there a bit more permanently. Despite his initial reluctance, Miles had indeed taken Renée bowling, to which they were actually more-or-less equally bad at. Renée still won though, but not by the county landslide that Francis had. They went to the diner again after that and while they were waiting for their double-order of hotdogs, Renée decided to start interrogating him for some reason.

“Why have you never talked to me about the whole Jason situation that happened in freshmen year?” She abruptly asked, slurping on a chocolate milkshake with an impressive vigour, “It was a huge deal, even to us outsiders and so it must’ve been like…apocalyptic for you guys. I thought you would’ve at least mentioned it before Francis brought it up the other day.”

Miles thought about it for a second and stopped himself from answering in an arse-y tone, “Well, it’s not exactly something I like to think about, so I guess I’ve been kind of avoiding it. To be honest, I hoped you didn’t know of it.”

“How could I not? Nothing ever happens around here. It’s a shame that the not-boring headline news usually involves a hate-crime of some sort, but it’s morbid curiosity y’know? Everyone and their mothers knew about it by the next week.”

“Trust me, I know,” He thought back to that awful week back at school, where everyone acted like bloody paparazzi towards them, as if they didn’t understand that their friend was in critical condition for a while and was one common cold away from the next train-journey to the afterlife.

Renée winced, but continued on her case, “I just thought by now you would’ve confided in me with this kind of thing.”

“I do!” He affirmed rapidly, “I just…there’s so much to it and it’s not exactly a cheery topic.”

“Please,” She put both her hands on one of his from across the table, “I’m all ears.”

So he told her every little detail. That he felt he could anyway. About them being bullied by Hunter and Jason for all of freshmen year, about the crackdown on fighting that the councillor brought in, which forced the jocks to be creative, about their paranoia surrounding Francis’ safety that inadvertently triggered exactly what they were trying to prevent. The only things that Miles left out were the specifics about Francis’ and Hunter’s relationship, as he felt it wasn’t his place to talk about it. So, for now, they were just friends to her. He also made it clear that he didn’t know everything, as there was a lot that Francis had just never spoken about to them

By the time he completed the story, they’d finished their meals and Renée was staring him, wide-eyed and looking absolutely horrified.

“Jesus Christ,” Was the first thing she said.

“Yeah,” He very much agreed.

“And after all that, they still released Jason early on parole?”

Flabbergasted, Miles cried, “How did you know that?” Then, in a more level-headed way, said, “Well, obviously the courts don’t know all of what I just told you, and yes, we’re incredibly furious about him being let out. But still, how?”

“Didn’t you see the papers?” She asked, “I assumed you two were told beforehand anyway, but I would’ve thought you’d seen it there too.”

“I guess not,” For some reason, the fact that the general populace had been informed of his release made him feel significantly worse about it, “You must keep more up to date with those than I do.”

“It’s my dad,” She conceded, “He always rambles about the newest headline to me, no matter what it is. Speaking of which, I have family over tonight, so if there was a way you could get me out of it, that would be great.”

One of the many things that Miles loved about Renée, was that she didn’t waste time with subtlety.

“Oh!” Miles was kind of taken aback by the sudden request. To be fair, he knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t going to say no, “Yeah, I can…do that.”

It really should’ve been a no-brainer. Miles’ parents were conveniently not home that night and Francis had previously said that he was fine with giving them some space if needed, so it all was just too perfect. That was, apart from the fact that Miles felt terrible about it. Nevertheless, Miles discretely sent Francis the text message to request it and he responded with ‘okay, have fun’ which Miles hated. It would only be for that night, he promised.

The ride back to the house felt like it lasted hours. Miles’ nerves were already high and Renée certainly wasn’t making it any better by resting her hand on his upper thigh, so the whole time he could tell that he was one low-flying-bird away from swerving and crashing the car. Oh God, was he ready for this? Now he’d processed what her plan was, the adrenaline had kicked in and it wasn’t like he was experienced in this. Spending years yearning for someone he couldn’t have meant his game was zeroed out, therefore he’d never been in a situation remotely like this one before. But there was always a first time for everything, right? He considered telling her about not having done it before, but he decided to wait until things, well…got moving.

Pulling up outside his house, he was relieved to see Francis’ car already gone so he wouldn’t have to stall. As soon as they unbuckled their seatbelts, Renée had no delay in throwing herself on him, pressing their lips together urgently and her tongue followed very close behind. Miles flushed red, his pulse raising and his body heating up rapidly. This was it. What Renée had most likely been daydreaming of for a while and what intimidated Miles to a great extent. For a second they pulled away, catching their breath and Miles opened his eyes to see…

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

He knew his brain was just playing tricks on him, but that honestly made it worse. Though it was Renée he was making out with in that car, his brain made him see Francis.

Rather than thinking of the ramifications of this however, Miles couldn’t help himself from savouring this mind malfunction. Somehow, she even felt like him in the moment; the way his hands tangled in her hair, the shape of her face, her body. Hell, Miles could’ve sworn he felt Francis’ lip ring press against him as they kissed and he got hard so fast that it was both embarrassing and a bit painful.

Before inevitably dragging themselves inside, Renée muttered, “You sure are a good kisser,” and Miles suppressed the urge to laugh at the insanity of what he was going through.

The visions didn’t stop there either. Everything; while they were tearing their clothes off, while she was giving him head, while they were on the bed inside each other, Miles could only think of Francis. It sounded horrible, and it was, and Miles was definitely going to have to have some sort of discussion about this with him, unfortunately, but in the moment, he was the happiest he had been in months. Every one of his senses was fully enveloped in this elaborate fantasy that he never wanted to end. It was scandalous, but also freeing, knowing that this was the closest thing he was going to get to experiencing Francis in this light.

After they finished though and the oxytocin had worn off, the guilt and the shame hit him like a sack of bricks. Whilst his girlfriend fell asleep on the bed, Miles went to have a shower. He felt gross. Gross for allowing himself to take advantage of what should’ve been an indicator for him to not do it at all. This feeling only intensified as the minutes went on, his chest tightening and the pressure in his face building up. But he wouldn’t let himself cry. He didn’t deserve to. He pressed his forehead against the glass wall of the shower as he became lightheaded from the heat and the steam that he was going to start choking on any second. Eventually, he did.

It didn’t take long for him to then realise how stupid he was being and he quickly stumbled out of the bathroom and into the much colder but less steam-filled corridor. He looked briefly into his bedroom to make sure his coughing fit hadn’t awoken his girlfriend, but she was out, no doubt about it.

He needed some fresh air.

Miles scrambled on his clothes, took his inhaler and off he went into the night. His car was just as freezing as the outside, but he found it hard to care. There was no end-goal to where he was going, he just needed to get away from the house. He turned on the radio in hope of drowning out his thoughts enough for him not drive the car into a ditch, but all that was running was advertisements for shady accident lawyers, how God hates money and therefore you should donate all of it to this priest guy because he’d ‘do good deeds’ with it, and a local ad for an upcoming auto-show that had the most annoying song to showcase it.

“No, I’m not interested in your Volkswagens Mr Car Guy, I just lost my virginity imagining that I was actually bumming my best friend!” He yelled to himself in frustration and he had to park the car for a moment so he could try to chill out, “This is fucking ridiculous,” He groaned to himself before driving on.

Primarily, he was driving through the suburbs, deciding that main roads weren’t necessarily a good idea. For a while he thought he was going in circles, but it turned out that everywhere just looked exactly the same and he suddenly realised that he had no idea where he was and probably wasn’t going to be able to get home before sunrise.

“Well, shit,” He muttered to himself as he parked himself outside a church that he didn’t recognise, which meant he’d unquestionably gone too far afield.

For a moment he considered going in and seeing if anyone in there knew how to get back to a more familiar part of town, but that plan was halted as soon as he saw the front door open. His heart dropped like a stone to his feet when he recognised the person who came out of the church.

Francis.

What the fuck?

He hopped out of the vehicle at record pace and made his friend basically jump out of his skin in alarm when he noticed he was there. First of all, Francis must’ve been freezing his balls off, as it was easily sub-zero and all he had in terms of a jacket was his worn-out denim one. This triggered Miles remembering that Francis owned almost nothing in terms of winter clothes and that just added to the pile of guilt over him kicking him out of the house temporarily. Secondly, as soon as he saw Miles, Francis wiped his face with his sleeve and as he got closer he saw that the skin around his eyes were swollen and red.

Oh Jesus.

“Miles!” He looked worried, as if he was about to be told something dreadful, “Wh- what are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing. I uh- needed to get out of the house for a bit. Drove around aimlessly until I got lost and that’s when I saw you,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Fran, would you uh…take a walk with me?”

Francis was taken back slightly by that, “Oh, um…sure.”

They walked in silence for a while so Miles could gather his thoughts. He needed to talk to him about what happened, even if it was agonisingly painful to do so. But he kept shooting glances at his friend and Francis just looked incredibly despondent. It was difficult to decide whether now was a good time to bring it up. Wait, that’s stupid. There wasn’t going to be a good time to bring it up, ever. He just had to. However, he really wanted to know why Francis was in a church at midnight. No, he had to stay on task, or else he didn’t know when he’d have the guts to talk about it again. If he just spat it out, then it was out and that was it. This was the hard part, all he had to do was s-

“Is Renée still at the house?” Francis interrupted his train of thought, startling Miles and making his head jerk slightly.

He quickly reassessed his surroundings and then responded as casually as he could, “Yeah, she’s sleeping.”

“What did you two get up to?”

“That’s not important, what is, is why you were hanging out in a church just a couple minutes ago?” Miles redirected and cursed himself for being a coward.

After a couple seconds of silent terror from Francis, he let out, “Please don’t make a big deal out of it, but I go to confession sometimes,” His voice began to shake and Miles reached for his hand but Francis moved away, “Clears my head, y’know? Well, sort of. It’s nice to let things out every so often. If I feel like it, I then sit on the benches for a while to…reflect, I guess?”

Every word felt like a dagger in Miles’ heart, but he couldn’t blame Francis at all. There was always going to be parts of Miles that missed going to church, as bizarre at felt to him. He didn’t regret shouting at that priest, he didn’t regret giving up on Catholicism as a whole, but it was comforting thinking that someone out there cared about what he was living through. That it was all just a part of a larger plan. Nonetheless, the fact that before, Francis wouldn’t step foot into a church and now he was going out of choice, made Miles want to grab him by the shoulders and scream ‘They’re not helping you!’. How long had he been doing this behind his back? Purposefully not telling Miles because he thought he’d react badly. Suddenly, he wished he’d just let himself suffocate in that godforsaken bathroom.

“You know my opinions on the Catholic Church,” Miles began, his voice scraping at the sides of his throat. Francis visibly tensed up, “But I’m not here to tell you to stop going or that it’s bad or whatever. If it helps, then that’s all I care about.”

For some reason, that didn’t make Francis feel any better, but he still said, “Thank you.”

They circled back to Miles’ car, and only then did he realise that he’d parked right behind Francis’ and just didn’t notice.

“You should probably get going now,” Francis gave him a pathetic smile, “Don’t make Renée wake up alone, she doesn’t deserve that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll just sleep in my car tonight, it’s no biggie.”

“Fuck that!” Miles didn’t mean to raise his voice so much and he did a little, panicked glance around him to mentally apologise to all the people he may have woken up in the houses next to them, “You’ll get frostbite out here, especially without a blanket. If you’re worried about Renée seeing you, then you can just sleep in Illi’s room tonight. I’ll tell you when she leaves tomorrow, but you are not sleeping in your car.”

“How did I know you’d stop me?” Francis giggled cheekily, breaking his previous solemn persona impressively fast.

“Because I’m not heartless or an idiot.”

“Second one’s debatable, but sure,” Francis snickered again and Miles hit him lightly.

</3

The second Illi got home for Christmas, Miles could tell it was going to be one long visit. Unsurprisingly, her outlook on the whole Renée situation had not changed even a bit, but what made it sting even more was that he now knew that she was sort of right. He had made things worse, for himself, Francis and probably Renée sometime soon if he didn’t get his act together. Though he’d disregarded it up until this point, he had noticed the weathering of his and Francis’ bond after he decided to ask Renée out. At first, he thought it was just because it was a big change that they were both getting used to, however, he couldn’t deny now that Francis had been gradually distancing himself. This could’ve been on purpose to give him and Renée some space, but knowing Francis, he was probably trying to act like no alteration had occurred, but was subconsciously drifting.

When Illi arrived, Francis was actually at work. She’d planned it in this way half to surprise him when he got back, but half so she could greet her family first (and so she could pry at Miles about what the fuck was going on with literally everything).

“So am I going to meet this Renée girl while I’m here?” She asked as she was unpacking her suitcase. Miles was sat on her bed, his knees tucked to his chest and his arms wrapped around them.

“Sadly not, she’s gone down south to see family over the holidays,” There was a part of Miles that was relieved about this – he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her and Illi to meet yet, if ever, and he desperately needed a break from seeing her while he figured out what to do about his apparent strong-as-ever feelings for Francis. He thought that it was best if Illi didn’t know about that whole ordeal though, as it would only add fuel to the fire of her rampage against him dating Renée.

“Aw, that’s a shame,” He really couldn’t tell whether she was being sincere or not, “How’s Francis dealing?”

“With what?” There was a myriad of things she could’ve been talking about, but when she rolled her eyes, Miles realised, “Oh, everything.”

“Yeah, with everything. I didn’t want to say this Milli, but you decided to get a girlfriend right after he went through something quite traumatic and don’t even try to pull the ‘I don’t think he likes me in that way’ argument, because we both know that’s bullshit,” She scolded, but then sighed to say in a softer voice, “What he doesn’t know, is that you’re in love with him and he deserves to at least know that, even if he can’t deal with a relationship right now.”

He hated how right she was, but he wouldn’t stand down, “Well I can’t exactly tell him that now,” He pointed out, “I am still dating Renée after all, so really my feelings for him shouldn’t matter.”

Illi sighed again, but much deeper, “That’s what I’m saying, Milli. Your feelings for him shouldn’t matter, but they do. I can see it in your eyes. You’re torn between what’s right and what’s easy and that’s why I’m angry at you, because you chose what was easy.”

“None of this has been easy!” He insisted, close to accidentally saying too much, “And I’m not saying that this isn’t my fault, because I know it is, but the holes too fucking deep now!”

He held his face in his palms and Illi came over to sit next to him, rubbing his back slowly. A couple moments passed and Miles embraced her, trying to pull himself together before he went to pick up Francis from work.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Illi,” He mumbled into her shoulder.

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will,” She pushed away to look at him in the eyes, her hands on his arms, “Ray and I are always going to be here to help if you want it, okay?”

Miles nodded.

“Now go pick up your boyfriend, if I’m not able to give him the fattest hug within the next thirty minutes, there will be problems,” Illi just about threw him off the bed and onto his feet and just before he left the room, he flipped her off.

</3

It didn’t take long for Miles to find Francis in the store, as he was near the front stocking shelves. Well, not stocking, as much as he was putting DVDs that people had left around back into their respective aisles. While he was working, Francis always had this bored-looking expression that made it obvious that he wasn’t all there. He’d previously explained that he kind of went on autopilot, unless something unusual caught his attention, which was rare and if something did, it normally wasn’t anything good. It was the same this time, apart from maybe being a bit more tired than average. Another flashback-nightmare. Recently, Francis had been struggling with going back to sleep after those – but surprise surprise, he wasn’t talking about it.

“Sorry for being late,” Miles said as he was approaching his friend, which made Francis jump as he was snapped out of his dissociative state, “I was held up at the house.”

“My shift ends in like two minutes,” Francis peered at a clock on the wall, “If anything, you’re on time.”

“Yeah, but it’s late for me.”

“I guess you’re right,” Francis chuckled.

When they got home, Francis’ plans of taking a nap were immediately foiled by Illi, who was sat in Miles’ room, nose deep in her sketchbook. To be honest, she didn’t even seem to notice that they were back until Francis let out a yelp upon seeing her.

“Illi!”

She whipped her head up, tossed her sketchbook to one side and tackled Francis into a hug that literally knocked him off his feet and they ended up a pile on the floor, “Francis!”

Miles shot his arms out to try and stabilise them, but it just ended up in him joining them. That was a ten-times warmer greeting than Miles got! So much for being her brother.

“When did you get here?” Francis’ voice was strained so Illi hauled herself off him so he could breathe properly and rolled over to continue sitting on the floor. Francis slowly shirked his torso off the carpet with his hands to sit next to her.

“About an hour or two ago,” She responded, beaming, “How are you?”

“Fucking exhausted, I was just about to take a nap before I saw you were here.”

“Well don’t let me stop you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nah, I’ll cancel for the moment, it’s alright,” He fidgeted with one of the rings on his fingers while Miles shuffled next to him, “How’s college going? Still swamped?”

Illi playfully rolled her eyes, “As always. My figure drawing class is pretty cool though. Muscles, bones and naked people. Kind of awkward if I’m showing non-artists though,” She laughed uneasily, “Well, it’s whatever. How’s high school?”

Francis blew a raspberry and Illi giggled, “That good, huh?”

“If I had to think of a positive, SATs are significantly less stressful to practice for when you already know you’re not going to college,” This was meant to be light-hearted, but Illi just frowned.

“Why not?”

“Can’t afford it,” He said matter-of-factly, one side of his face pinching and his fists clenching to the point of his knuckles going white.

“What about scholarships? Financial aid, like Ray got?” She looked a little hurt when Francis just laughed coldly in her face.

“In my dreams, could I get a scholarship, there’s no fucking way, I’m too thick for that. Financial aid too, that’s a no-go. For all the government knows, I still live with my parents. Not even the school knows I don’t and my folks are loaded. Cheapskates, but loaded. So, I don’t qualify for that.”

Illi peeked at Miles to ask for help, but he just shrugged at her, “There must be a way, I can’t believe that there isn’t another option.”

“There is another option. I try to graduate and get a better job out of high school. Then, maybe I’ll go to community college if there’s a course I don’t totally despise the sound of,” A part of Miles thought that Francis was only saying the community college thing to Illi to appease her enough to drop the topic, as he’d never mentioned it before, “But, the likelihood of that isn’t exactly high.”

“Well, that sucks,” She frowned again, but in a more annoyed way, “You don’t even get a chance to go.”

“Not like I had one to begin with,” Francis snorted and even though Miles had heard him say this same thing before and knew he couldn’t argue with it, he still had the impulse to say it wasn’t true. Illi seemed to go through a similar thought process, “Look, Illi I appreciate your passion about this, I really do, it’s just…” He was cut off by a yawn spilling out of his mouth, “…Sorry. It’s just the way it is.”

“You thinking of un-cancelling that nap?” Illi’s face softened as she giggled, “Milli and I will just be downstairs, okay?”

Miles knew that was code for ‘the siblings need to have a private conversation right now’ and he was already dreading what it could possibly be. Since she hadn’t actually given Francis a shoe-in to refuse, he just said ‘okay’ before Miles helped him get off the floor and onto the bed. He hoped that Illi’s tackle hadn’t hurt him too bad, as if that was the case, Illi would beat herself up about it to an insane level. She didn’t seem to notice luckily, but Miles could tell he was in pain throughout that whole conversation.

They headed down to the kitchen while Francis slept and Illi snagged what was her third mug of coffee within two hours. Miles poured his second. She leant against the counter, dawning this sort of inspective glare at her brother. He knew he was in trouble, but not sure what for yet.

“You and Francis aren’t as close as you used to be,” She stated bluntly, taking a sip of her coffee like she’d just made a comment about the weather or something. How the fuck could she sus that out from that single interaction? Curse her goddamned intuition.

“What makes you so sure?” Miles acted like he didn’t know what she was talking about, but she clearly didn’t buy it.

“I don’t know if you guys ever noticed this, but usually you two are like, all over each other,” She smirked when Miles’ eye twitched in confusion, “When I say you aren’t as close, I mean that both metaphorically and literally. Whenever I hung out with both of you in the house before, you were always touching in some way.”

Thinking back on it, Miles realised she had a point. When he and Francis were together at home, before he started dating Renée, if they weren’t fully cuddling while going to sleep, they were laying on each other, touching shoulders, legs loosely intertwined, something; if they were detached, it was normally because Francis was stressed about something. Now though, they almost never made contact unless it was very deliberate, not even when they were sleeping anymore.

Miles must’ve made a face that showed he understood, as Illi then said, “You get me? I know for you it’s probably a subconscious thing, but it very might well not be for him. I want you to think on that for a bit while he’s napping,” She headed back upstairs then, presumably to her bedroom.

So Miles did think about it. A lot.

There were three possibilities here: Miles had subliminally stopped being as physically affectionate with Francis as he’d begun dating Renée and his very non-platonic feelings for him would make that kind of touch borderline cheating; Francis had backed off to an extent for a similar reason and Miles just hadn’t noticed; or both. Probably both. The biggest problem with all of these reasons, was the implications of each. For years, they’d been touchy-feely as friends and Miles’ relationship with Renée wasn’t supposed to change that fact. His relationship with Renée wasn’t supposed to change anything, other than assist Miles in moving on.

But he hadn’t moved on.

The reasoning was selfish, yet fruitless. He was such an idiot.

Miles headed back upstairs, shuffling next to Francis on the bed. The more he looked at him, the more remorseful he felt. This was the person that he’d given up on a month ago, as if he hadn’t been given up on by almost everybody else close to him. Trying to focus on literally anything else, Miles flicked on the TV onto the first film he could find in the channels. He wasn’t familiar with the one he found and he didn’t care that it was already in what he gathered to be the second act. Vaguely following along with the plot, he impatiently waited for something actually interesting to happen. He didn’t know any of these characters, wasn’t invested in their arcs – he’d missed at least the first half an hour of the film for Christ’s sake – so he was looking out for an explosion, or for the music to suddenly turn sinister, or even for two of the characters to spontaneously start making out, whatever. It was going pretty fucking slow at the moment.

Every slight movement Francis made in his sleep was like a jump-scare to him, as if he was about to start writhing around from a nightmare. It felt silly and if anything, it showed how not-immersive this movie was. He wanted to do something. Something that would change the trajectory of wherever they were going currently. Something that would show Francis he loved him without outright telling him that and without it seeming forced or like he was trying to prove a point.

When Francis shifted onto his back, Miles knew what to do. He turned down the volume of the TV until it just became white-noise, turned his lamp off and wrapped his arm around Francis’ waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck. God, he hadn’t realised how much he missed this. It wasn’t a ridiculous time to go to sleep, but it was a lot earlier than normal and yet, he was already starting to drift off from pure comfort.

Before he fell asleep, Francis moved in a way that indicated to Miles that he’d woken up. Miles kept his eyes closed, pretending to be fully knocked out to increase the chances of Francis just accepting it and closing his eyes again.

“Heh,” The tone Francis had was more of intrigue than of panic, which was a good sign.

He tapped Miles a couple of times on the shoulder to check if he was properly unconscious (little did he know!) and then paused for a few, torturous minutes before giving in to the touch and positioning his arms to hold Miles tightly in place.

This was it. This was how they were supposed to be. In each other’s arms, dozing off.

</3

A sudden jostle of Miles’ body interrupted his slumber and it took him a couple moments to fully grasp what was going on. He’d been pushed away by Francis, who was tossing and turning like mad and making frightened, incomprehensible noises. At first, he performed the normal routine of trying to restrain his friend as much as he could manage, but it didn’t take long for this plan to be dropped when it only appeared to exacerbate Francis’ distress and the force at which he was moving overpowered Miles’ efforts anyway. For a while, he just sat there, unsure of what to do as Francis squirmed and his mumbles became cries. When he started hyperventilating, Miles reattempted curtailing his jerks, only for him to be shoved off once again.

It was starting to look like he was just going to have to wait for the nightmare to end, or at least de-escalate before he could do anything, but out of the blue, Francis yelped something that made his heart skip a beat.

“Miles!”

At first, he could only widen his eyes as he stared at him. Francis had never once said Miles’ name during these flashbacks before. His insides churned at the thought of what could possibly be going on inside Francis’ head in that moment.

“Miles?”

When his tone changed, Miles scrambled to try and make himself known, lifting Francis by the shoulders into an embrace.

“Hey, I’m here, don’t worry,” He spoke softly, running his hands through Francis’ hair.

Although his body was twitching a lot less, Francis’ breathing quickened exponentially and within a couple seconds, he was saying “No,” over and over again, with increasing despair and Miles thought he knew what was coming. He hated the fact he couldn’t wake him up during these dreams, spare him from the misery of having to relive it so frequently. Miles reminded Francis constantly that they’d get easier to deal with and would eventually stop bothering him as much. But, it had been almost two years, with no sign of them decreasing in amount, much like Miles’ old nightmares, but it took something drastic to happen for his to stop being a nightly occurrence.

Just when Miles was bracing for Francis to keel over and begin reaching for his leg, he was shaken up by another change in the routine.

Francis started screaming.

This wasn’t a shout for help or for his attackers to stop, it was visceral and incomprehensible and fucking scary, that was for sure. It hurt Miles’ throat just by listening to it. The shrieks continued as Francis fought against his friend’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. No amount of thrashing could conquer him, not now that the adrenaline had kicked in in Miles’ body. He kept his hold on him firm until Francis seemed to relax for a brief moment, after which the boy came to, gasping and shaking.

Suddenly, Miles was shoved away while Francis yelped, “Get off me!” and seemed to check his bad leg for any stab wounds. It didn’t take long for Francis to realise that the dream wasn’t real and he stared at Miles a bit sheepishly until he pulled him into a hug on his own accord. Francis pressed his forehead against Miles’ shoulder, taking deep breaths as Miles moved his arms up to hold him by the waist.

The pair stayed like this for a few minutes, during which, Illi came crashing into Miles’ room, looking extremely worried and also ready to pounce if necessary. However, when she registered that they weren’t in immediate danger and processed the scene in front of her, Illi visibly relaxed, though her face was still conveying her concern.

“I just had to convince mom and dad not to come running in here with a knife, what the fuck happened?”

Francis pulled away, glanced at Illi, then at Miles, initially confused until it dawned on him, “Oh crap, was I being loud?”

In that moment, Illi seemed to understand what had happened, “You were dreaming, weren’t you?” The concern in her eyes only intensified when Francis nodded, “Dude, you were screaming. It sounded like you were being…well…” She was clearly looking for a different word than ‘murdered’, ‘killed’ or ‘attacked’ but couldn’t seem to find one.

Francis was discernibly horrified by this discovery, “I’m so sorry for waking you guys up, I must’ve scared the shit out of you.”

Miles squeezed him, “It’s not your fault, you can’t really control this sort of thing.”

After thinking for a couple seconds, Francis’ head and shoulders dropped and he rubbed his face with the heel of his palm, “I need a fucking cigarette.”

“Amen to that,” Illi chuckled, scratching at her arm.

Despite the other two’s strong objections to it, Miles joined them outside. He wasn’t smoking, as he could sense how bad of an idea that was, but he also deeply didn’t want to be left alone to try and fall back asleep. Though, he did make one imbecilic decision, which was to not put a coat on before heading out. It was undoubtedly sub-zero and unlike Francis who also didn’t have anything warm on, he didn’t have the heat from the smoke to provide any comfort. This led to him huddling next to Francis like a goddamn penguin, as he was too proud to just go back inside and put on a jacket, especially since they were making fun of him for it. The close proximity to his friend was sufficient enough though, as somehow, even in these conditions, Francis was giving off heat like a human radiator and drowsiness managed to hit Miles again only a few minutes into the smoke break.

He must’ve fallen asleep at some point, as he woke up with a blanket and one of Francis’ arms wrapped around him. The sun was coming up now and the other two were midway through a conversation that Miles couldn’t decode if he tried. When he opened his eyes, Illi abruptly paused what she was saying before and smiled at him.

“Rise and shine, asshole. I’ve got to say, I’m impressed you could sleep with how much you were shivering.”

“Fuck off,” He groaned, admittedly still shivering a bit, “I’m not that cold.”

She raised her eyebrow at him but didn’t bother to refute it. Francis on the other hand, made the loudest scoff he could muster before wrangling the blanket off Miles’ body and detaching himself so he was left feeling like he was in a battlefield with no armour. Both Illi and Francis burst out laughing evilly when Miles squeaked and threw himself back on his friend to numb the icy chill that scraped at his skin.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Francis smirked in victory.

</3

As Miles had expected, even with he and Illi tag-teaming to try and get a peep out of Francis about what was going on with his dreams, he was refusing to talk about it. That was fine though, for now. Christmas was coming up and the last thing any of them needed was some kind of argument, especially since Ray was coming over almost every day as well. In order to give them some privacy, Miles ‘asked’ Francis to go to the arcade with him for the day. Francis seemed to get the hint.

“They sure are cute,” He remarked when they got into Miles’ car, “I wonder how they handle the distance.”

Miles shrugged, “Hell if I know. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to manage it.”

“You and Renée thinking of different collages?” Francis asked simply and Miles wanted to scream.

He wanted to say, ‘I was talking about you, idiot!’ but instead he replied, “Sort of, yeah.”

Much like computer games, Francis was hopeless at most arcade games. If they were at different machines, Miles would hear a frustrated groan every couple of seconds and if they were playing against each other, Miles would sweep the floor with him with minimal effort. This became ten times sadder when Miles factored in the detail that he was trying to go easy on him.

“You know you’re supposed to dodge the lasers, not fly directly into them, right?” Miles teased as he watched the colourful ‘Game Over’ graphic flash onto the screen.

“I know!” He squawked, a bit louder than intended before turning around and smiling tiredly at his friend, “How ‘bout we take a break for a bit?”

“It’s about lunch time anyway, I think a journey to the food court is in order.”

The arcade was in what was probably the tiniest, dingiest mall in existence, which had a grand total of three food places if you counted the pretzel stand that wasn’t even in the food court. Francis didn’t seem surprised that there was a lacklustre amount of vegetarian options in both places, but Miles was almost embarrassed that he didn’t foresee this being an issue. Although Miles suggested that they drive someplace else for lunch, Francis waved him off, saying it was a ‘waste of gas’ and ordered a jumbo serving of cheese-covered fries before Miles could utter the word ‘but’. By the time Miles sat at the table Francis had taken while he was getting his own lunch, Francis had demolished half of the fries.

“They good?” Miles giggled as his friend continued piling fries into his mouth.

“Failure makes me hungry,” He slurped at his diet coke, “And I did a lot of that this morning.”

“Well, we can try at the claw machines next. It’s not really failing if they’re rigged to begin with,” Miles was only half-joking, Illi had some sort of magic touch when it came to claw machines that let her get something every time, so maybe there was a skill behind it.

They silently ate for another couple of minutes, but Miles could tell something was up with Francis. His eyes were droopy but his shoulders were tense, hunched slightly. When they’d both finished their food, Miles decided to just ask about it rather than contemplating it for any longer.

“Fran, are you alright? You seem down.”

Francis’ head jerked up, his eyes wide and deer-like, “Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit tired,” He deflected. Though it was true Francis wasn’t sleeping well – his nightmares were certainly not getting any better – Miles had a feeling it wasn’t just that.

“Something’s bothering you,” He stated, in a way he hoped came off less interrogative and more considerate.

His friend sighed, leaning his elbows against the table and playing with one of the forks that hadn’t been used, “I just thought…” He sighed again, “I thought my uncle would’ve called by now, y’know? I was aiming to have moved out before Christmas, but it’s not looking that way anymore.”

“There’s no rush!” Miles reminded him, but Francis only made a half-hearted attempt at a smile, “I mean it Fran, I’m sure he’ll call soon, even if a little later than we imagined.” It felt so weird coming out of his mouth, as in truth, Miles didn’t believe it himself.

Francis thought for a second and then said out of the blue, “I’m going to get out of your hair for a bit on Christmas day, drive…somewhere. I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.”

This completely took Miles aback, “What? Why?”

“Christmas is for you and your family Miles, I don’t want to intrude on that,” The fact he didn’t seem upset or reluctant about this decision at all made Miles want to cry.

“No,” Miles said bluntly, “No way.”

“What do you mean, ‘no way’?” Francis furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re spending Christmas with us Fran, I’m not giving you a choice,” He commanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Really, it’s fine Miles, it’s not my thing. You should spend it with your family.”

“Fran, there’s no one else I’d rather spend it with more than you,” The words slipped out before Miles could stop himself, and the rise in volume caused a couple people in the area to turn their heads. Francis looked terrified.

“Miles?...” His voice was whispery and hollow. Miles scrambled to try and make that sound as least gay as possible.

“I just meant…I think it’s ridiculous for you to not spend it with us. Leaving someone out of a Christmas celebration isn’t really in the holiday spirit, right? Fran, you’re my best friend, it was painful enough leaving you alone on Christmas when you actually had a place to stay during it, don’t think we’d kick you out to keep it ‘family only’, that’s stupid,” He pleaded, choosing to repress the urge to take hold of his hand while saying it.

Francis had this sort of nonplussed look on his face, which Miles didn’t entirely understand, as he thought he was being crystal clear about what he was saying.

Eventually, the boy surrendered and just went, “If you insist…” His eyes then widened and a sort of dawning terror creeped onto his face, “I…don’t have to meet any of your extended family, do I?”

Miles then broke out into a cackle and suddenly all the previous tension had dissipated, “God, no! They won’t even talk to us anymore, let alone come ‘round for Christmas.”

Francis didn’t even ask why, as he got it instantaneously. Though it was absolutely insane that something as harmless as Illi being a woman would cause them to be basically excommunicated from the rest of their family, none of them really liked their blood relatives anyway. Not even their parents.

Relieved, Francis sunk into his chair a little, his face sporting that nonplussed look again. He perked up when Miles chuckled at him.

“You’re allowed to be happy about that, y’know? It all happened years ago, it’s not like these are fresh wounds, Fran,” Miles smiled at him then stood up and outstretched his hand to his friend to help him do the same, “Come on, let’s try those claw machines.”

</3

Unsurprisingly, Francis conked out as soon as they got home from the arcade and it appeared that Miles cuddling up to him before had made him comfortable enough to do the same. As he was unable to move, at least without disturbing his friend, this meant Illi and Ray had to deliver him his food when dinner came, after which they took to joining him in watching a film. Both of them giggled when they saw a plushie Sonic the Hedgehog trapped between Francis’ arm and Miles’ chest.

“Someone get lucky with a claw machine?” Ray asked and Miles rolled his eyes playfully.

“First try as well!” He whisper-shouted in response, “He’s terrible at everything in the arcade apart from the machines that were supposed to be rigged.”

After a while, the seniors seemed to actually get kind of invested in the film, so everyone shut up eventually. Miles was only really half-watching it, most of his attention was on Francis. He’d begun playing with his friend’s hair without realising, his eyes flipping between the screen and Francis’ chest rising and falling. He felt it too, against his side, ribs pressing more and then less into his skin repeatedly. His nerves relaxed, the rest of his body following, his focus spending more and more time on Francis’ resting state. His chest rising and falling. His nerves relaxing further. In his periphery he thought he saw Illi and Ray share a look, but he wasn’t certain. Then, Miles’ eyelids began to feel like they had weights attached. He made sure he could still feel his friend breathing. Still hear it. Only then did he finally fall asleep.

Miles wasn’t quite sure what woke him up, whether it was a random loud noise, a sudden movement, or just his body deciding it was time, but he was conscious nonetheless. The pale grey-ish light that was peaking through the curtains signalled that it was a sensible time to get up, so he went downstairs with the aim of brewing a pot of coffee. Illi and Ray seemed to have relocated back to Illi’s room after Miles had passed out, so at least he wasn’t having to precariously tiptoe around snoring bodies on the floor. All he had to do was wriggle out of Francis’ grip, which he’d discovered a flawless technique for over time, therefore it was no issue. As he made it down the stairs, a muffled noise made itself known. The closer he got to it, the clearer it became and soon Miles recognised the sound to be a guitar.

Ray.

The sound cut off abruptly when Miles opened the door to the garage, where he saw Ray sat down where he always played during practice, hunched over his guitar. Upon seeing Miles, this apologetic look washed over his face.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No!” Miles spluttered out quickly, “Not at all, I uh- couldn’t even hear you until I got downstairs.”

Ray then peered around where Miles was stood in the doorway, “Anyone else up?”

“Nah, just me,” He scratched the back of his head, closed the door behind him and came to sit opposite Ray on the floor.

“You okay?” Miles felt like he was staring directly into his soul for a brief moment, but in the least intimidating way possible, because well…it was Ray.

“Yeah- I mean, I don’t know,” Miles laughed uncomfortably, “Things have been…weird lately.”

Ray hummed in acknowledgement and finger-picked a gentle melody on his guitar before saying, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Miles admitted. He really didn’t, especially not at seven in the fucking morning.

Rather than prying, Ray hummed once more and continued playing while Miles just listened. No note was lost in his ears, each pluck of the strings Miles breathed in like oxygen – maybe even better than he did that. It probably would’ve lulled him to sleep again if Ray didn’t suddenly speak again.

“You look at Francis like he’s just a figment of your imagination,” He stated in an impressively casual way, “Why?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure why Ray thought he’d know that, he didn’t even know there was anything odd about the way he looked at Francis.

Luckily, Ray didn’t actually seem to be searching for an answer, “I noticed this last night. You stare at him like he’s your long lost lover who died in the war,” He giggled slightly – but in a way that also aired concern – and Miles bugged his eyes at him.

“What are you trying to say?”

“What do you think I’m saying?”

This was too philosophical for Miles right now. What was Ray on?

But Miles figured he should humour him, because otherwise this conversation could’ve been going back and forth for a while. So, he thought about it, “I pay attention to his breathing a lot…I panic when I don’t know where he is, I sometimes panic even when I do know…if I don’t hear him snoring at night I have to check his pulse to make sure he’s alive before I can sleep, I don’t know. I’m a paranoid person, Ray, you know that!”

“Miles, do you occasionally think that afternoon where Francis died never ended and that everything that’s happened since is a dream or some sort of elaborate fantasy,” He sounded like a psychologist, Miles would know, he’d seen quite a few when he was in middle school. Miles held his elbows tightly.

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

A sympathetic frown then formed on Ray’s face, “I used to think that sometimes, closer to when it happened, but those feelings stopped after a few months. That’s why I’m worried about you Miles, you’re stuck in that day and it’s not healthy. What are you going to do when Francis moves out? What about when you go to University?”

In all honesty, Miles particularly didn’t like thinking about futures where he and Francis were separated, so he hadn’t considered this at all.

“Also, as much as I don’t like saying it, Miles, this isn’t normal,” Well that was adjacent to being kicked in the stomach, “I know you love him, which can cancel out a lot of rational thinking,” Amen to that, “But this is a bit obsessive and I think you’re obsessing because you’re terrified of losing him before you can tell him that you love him, since you almost lost that chance before.”

“So you’re saying I should tell him I love him?” Ray nodded at him, “God, Illi first and now you? Aren’t you forgetting something? Someone? I have a girlfriend!”

Ray sighed, then asked, “Do you love her?”

“I like her, a lot actually. I told you this!” Miles was getting frustrated now, but he tried to stay cool.

“I didn’t ask you whether you liked her,” Ray rebutted, his voice even and impartial, “I asked whether you loved her.”

Miles started to say something but stopped himself and thought about it before grunting, “It’s only been a month.”

“Yet, you prioritise her over Francis, who you’ve loved for two years? I want you to think about this logically Miles, who is more important to you?”

It was Francis, there was no doubt about it. Even before they had this discussion, Miles would’ve answered Francis in a heartbeat. Then it dawned on him, “I can’t keep dating Renée.”

It wasn’t fair on her, it wasn’t fair on Francis, it wasn’t fair on himself. Illi was right all along. He’d only made things worse, so he had to make to right choices going forwards.

He was going to follow his heart.

</3

Christmas day began as normal with the sound of Illi banging two frying pans together to wake them up, a tradition that Miles had meant to warn Francis about, but notably didn’t.

“Merry Christmas asshole one and asshole two, mom’s making pancakes,” She shouted after both of them jolted awake out of surprise. Even though Miles was well-aware of the fact she was going to do this, there was a part of him that wasn’t convinced, as Francis was there too. Also, it was still quite an intense way to wake up.

His sister didn’t linger and after Francis had shaken away the initial shock, he laughed, “I think my soul left my body for a split second there, Jesus.”

Miles, on the other hand, wasn’t so amused, “You’re laughing, but imagine her being your Christmas alarm clock every year,” He rubbed at his eyes, the rush from remembering that he was waking up with Francis on Christmas day only just hitting him.

“I don’t know, I think I could get used to it,” Francis smiled and Miles had to hold himself back from doing and saying about a million different things that would blow his cover immediately.

Although he’d decided to start being more honest with Francis about his feelings for him, he was struggling to find the path that would head in that direction. He knew he was going to finally tell him that he loved him, but the right moment hadn’t really presented itself and if there was anything he was going to mess up, he was determined to make sure it wasn’t that.

After the pancakes were suitably devoured, they got on with presents. Francis didn’t talk much during breakfast, which could’ve been because he was too busy shoving the fluffy, syrup-covered cakes into his mouth, but it made Miles reflect on the fact that he had no idea what Christmases were like in the Lero household before his parents disowned him. He had a decent picture of what they were like after, but it was difficult to not assume that the majority of his friend’s festive memories weren’t very good ones. He’d never really talked much about it though. Now, as they were sitting around the tree, Francis remained quite quiet, focussing more on the TV that was playing How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but under Mcmillin family tradition, the youngest always opened their present first, which was usually Miles, but it just so happened that Francis had a month’s advantage on him in this case. So, Miles’ parents handed Francis his present and at first he didn’t seem to realise what was going on, but after a couple of seconds his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, yet he couldn’t seem to get many words out.

“I-…you-…wh-…” He stuttered, looking increasingly bewildered and like he was going to explode. Miles put his arm around him to try and ground him, “You got me a Christmas present?” His voice was weak, like he was holding back tears.

Miles’ parents just smiled and his mom said, “Of course we did.”

It wasn’t actually Miles who suggested they get a gift for Francis, they just came up to him one day and asked what would be a good gift idea because they were worried about ‘disappointing him’. Despite him telling them that Francis would be extremely grateful that they even got him a gift in the first place, they insisted he help them. It made Miles feel ten times better about the fact that they weren’t doing Secret Santa again that year, as none of them could financially justify it, with their group being half poor-university students and a quarter homeless. This way, Francis would at least receive one gift like the rest of them.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” He sniffled before he even opened the damn thing. Miles resisted the urge to make fun of him.

When he tore open the wrapping paper, a thick, folded piece of black fabric was revealed and upon closer inspection, Francis realised what it was.

“You got me a coat?”

“Miles said you needed one,” His dad credited and Francis turned his head to beam at his friend.

“Well, you were never going to buy one for yourself,” Miles giggled modestly as Francis tackled him into a hug with such force that Miles’ head banged against the floor a little painfully.

Francis place his hands next to each side of Miles’ head and straightened his elbows to start to get off him, but he paused after this movement briefly, their faces so close yet so far, staring directly into each other’s eyes. Blood rushed to both of their heads rapidly, so fast in fact, that Miles thought he was going to pass out for a moment. Though he didn’t see his face for very long, as he crawled off of him hastily, Miles saw Francis’ face flush bright red as well.

To quickly move on from that, Miles opened his present, which was a goddamn Lego Millenium Falcon! Okay, that was awesome.

He heard a chuckle from beside him, “Miles, you are seventeen years old and you just got a Lego set for Christmas,” Francis teased, but Miles was having none of it.

“And? There is nothing childish about Star Wars Lego. Look at it! You can’t tell me this isn’t the coolest thing ever!” He held the box up to make a point and Francis shrunk into himself a bit.

“Okay, yeah, it’s pretty sweet,” Francis grinned as he ogled at it.

It didn’t take long for everyone to shut up and focus on their own things for a while, while all still being together. Miles wasted no time in beginning to build the Falcon, Illi was testing out the new, bourgeois paints and oils she’d gotten and Francis was fully emersed in The Muppets Christmas Carol. Considering the fact that he wasn’t singing along with it or quoting any of the lines, it was clear that Francis had never watched it before, which was sacrilegious, but he brushed it off because it definitely his parents’ fault, like he needed another reason to despise them.

When Miles started seething over a missing piece of the Lego, Francis demanded that he take a break and join in with watching the film. By this point, the Muppets had been replaced with Love Actually. This was a movie that Miles only began to like during High School, so unlike some of the other holiday films that played each year, his experience watching it hadn’t begun to feel oversaturated yet. It was also another film that Francis had apparently never watched, which made Miles question which ones he actually had.

“We didn’t really watch that many films at Christmas, we spent most of our time at Church and when I wasn’t there, I was avoiding my family at all costs,” Francis said when Miles asked, “If I was in close proximity to my parents, they’d outwardly bitch and moan about me to anyone who’d listen as if I wasn’t there and all of my cousins had been instructed to keep their distance from me anyway because I was apparently a ‘bad influence’,” Miles had to dial down his external reaction to that for the sake of the story continuing, “If I watched anything, it was the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and the occasional Nativity cartoon my parents would stick me in front of as a treat for behaving at Mass.”

“Jesus Christ,” Miles breathed out, shuffling closer to Francis on the sofa.

“Hey, I’m not usually against using the Lord’s name in vain, but on his birthday dude? That’s low,” Francis giggled and Miles playfully rolled his eyes at him.

Throughout the movie, Francis appeared to be gradually putting more and more of his weight onto Miles until he was properly leaning on him. Like muscle memory, Miles played with his hair which just made him lean into him more and when Miles broke focus with the film to look at Illi, she was staring straight at him speculatively. When she raised her eyebrow at him, he mouthed ‘fuck off’ at her and she just smirked, going back to what she was doing before. During the iconic tagline of the film, Miles looked at Francis, but he didn’t notice.

After another close call with blubbery Francis when Miles’ parents made him a nut-roast for Christmas dinner so he wouldn’t feel pressured to eat turkey, the whole family settled back into the living room to watch some of the Christmas films they had on DVD. Only then, did Miles remember that this roster included the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and no one else really knew about the fact Francis had a bit of a history with it. He tried to recall whether Illi had ever been told this, but if she had, he certainly didn’t know about it. Just before they got out the DVDs, Miles pulled Francis aside as he was assisting with the clean up from dinner. He explained the dilemma and offered to mention something about it to the rest so they could skip that particular film this time, but Francis scoffed at the suggestion.

“Miles, it’s been years since I last tried to watch it and that was when everything with my parents was relatively new. It’s really okay, we can watch it,” He began making his way back to the kitchen, but Miles gripped his arm to make him stop.

“But what if you still struggle with watching it? I don’t want you getting upset because it brings back bad memories,” When Miles said this, Francis looked at him like he was stupid, which was a little insulting since he was just trying to be considerate.

“If it does, I’ll excuse myself and go do something else while you guys finish it, it’s really not that deep,” He sighed and began walking to the kitchen again.

Though Miles wasn’t a big fan of the idea of risking Francis just toughing it out – because let’s face it, the likelihood he’d actually leave mid-film if it was distressing him was slim – once they were all sat down and Francis was probably as close to Miles as he could physically get, he warmed up to it a bit. He couldn’t tell whether he was doing this as some sort of comfort thing or whether he was deliberately cuddling up to Miles so Miles would shut up about it, but either way, he wasn’t going to complain. Within the first couple minutes however, he could tell Francis was going to be alright. His friend was smiling so wide, Miles couldn’t help but smile too. By the end of the film, Francis looked at Miles with victory and relief and it took Miles all of his strength to not kiss him right then and there.

Eventually, as the Christmas movie marathon went on, Francis fell asleep in Miles’ arms and Illi took this as an opportunity to make fun of him.

“You are so in love with him, it’s almost painful to watch,” She huffed, “I will be stunned if your girlfriend hasn’t figured it out yet.”

He glared daggers into her soul, but his parents unfortunately silently agreed. He ignored them for now, he didn’t need any more convincing.

</3

It was only a couple of days before the end of the Christmas break when Francis had to excuse himself to take a phone-call. In the moment, Miles didn’t think much of it, continuing to fiddle with his bass. They’d taken to playing music together again occasionally, even without the rest of the band, for the hell of it. They’d even managed to write shadows of songs, arrangements they had played around with but never completed.

Miles was too busy cursing at himself over messing up what he was trying to play for him to notice that Francis was back in the room until his friend said, “Guess what.”

He muted the strings and looked up, “Good news?”

“Great news. I have an apartment!” Francis grinned.

The resolution of everything around Miles then blurred significantly, his stomach dropping and saliva filling his mouth to the point where he thought he was going to choke on it. He wasn’t expecting this, he was convinced the uncle deal was only false hope. Francis was going to move out. Francis wasn’t going to live with him anymore. They weren’t going to be sleeping in the same bed, or go to and from school together or be around each other nearly as much. This couldn’t be true. He had to be messing with him. What if Francis got into trouble but Miles wouldn’t know because it wouldn’t be at his house? What if Francis needed Miles around urgently but he couldn’t get to him quick enough? What if Miles would never get to tell him that he loved him?

The panic only spiked once he realised he was taking far too long to respond and he scrambled to at least verbally acknowledge what Francis had just said, “That’s great,” It came out far less enthusiastically than he intended, straying towards sarcastic just to add to how much of an asshole he must’ve looked.

“Jeez Miles, you could’ve at least tried to pretend to be happy for me,” Francis took a step towards him as he put his bass down, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” He tried to think of an excuse for his tone, “It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Francis snorted slightly and Miles winced, “Usually when people are surprised by something good, they are actually excited about it y’know? What’s your problem with it?”

“You know what my problem is,” He thought that he might as well drop the act, Francis saw right through it anyway.

Francis rolled his eyes, “And my points still stand! You know why this is so important to me.”

“It’s not gonna stop me from thinking you’re rushing into things,” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe I was rushing back then, I’ll admit,” Francis threw his own arms up in surrender, “But I may not get an opportunity like this again, Miles. My uncle can’t just reserve the apartment for me forever until I decide to move in! The fact he’s lowered my rent is generous enough, I can’t just pick and choose when to start paying it.” He was getting up in his face now, increasingly frustrated as if he knew Miles was going to react like this.

“Do you even know what this place looks like?” Miles’ voice raised in both volume and pitch, “It seems you heard the price and just ran with it!”

“I do actually,” Francis spat, placing his hands on his hips and furrowing his eyebrows, “I went for a viewing while you were on a date with your girlfriend. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be glad I’m moving out? You can finally have a space to share with Renée alone, without worrying about kicking me out.”

“I don’t care about Renée!” He shouted a little too loudly and a little too quickly, “Uhh…” Francis bugged his eyes out at him, jaw practically on the floor. Miles took a step back, “I meant I don’t care about that, Fran. It’s really not a big deal.”

“But you needed it once,” Francis’ voice had been reduced to a low, grating mutter, “That night you found me at the church and avoided answering my question about what you guys were doing that was so urgent that you needed me to leave.”

Miles’ insides felt like they were corroding and turning to acid. He whispered, “Where are you going with this?” He really hoped it wasn’t where he dreaded.

Francis took a hefty gulp and shook himself slightly, preparing himself for what he was about to say, “Miles, why didn’t you tell me you lost your virginity to Renée?”

Oh for the love of Christ. Miles’ legs might as well have been stuck to the ground with hot tar, his joints stiffening and locking up, his heart beating bruises into his ribcage. That was exactly what he didn’t want him to say. His skin burned with cold sweat as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts into something coherent so he wouldn’t respond with a plethora of unintelligible, pained noises.

He took a deep breath, “How…on God’s green earth…is that relevant to what we’re discussing?”

The scoff that came out of Francis’ mouth felt like a bullet being shot into Miles’ chest, “How’s it relevant? Miles I gave you a chance that night to tell me about it. I’m your best friend and I had to find out about this through your girlfriend. It was a massive deal, Miles, and I don’t think you merely just forgot to mention it.”

This made Miles leave a mental reminder in his head to talk to Renée about why the fuck she told Francis without asking him first.

“Ever since you started dating her,” Francis continued, getting closer again to Miles, “You have confused me so much. Sure, you’ve been hanging out with me as usual, gone out of your way to make sure I’m okay and you apparently don’t want me to ever move out. But then you don’t tell me shit! You barely talk about her to me; don’t you think that’s weird?”

Throughout all of this, Miles couldn’t stop staring at Francis’ lips, but he then realised it probably looked like he wasn’t trying to listen to his friend’s points. He snapped his eyes back up to Francis’, that beautiful hazel that was so cold in this moment. Maybe the conventions of talking about relationships to your best friend had been lost on him, even though he was making a conscious effort to try and pretend that everything between him, Renée and Francis was normal. Unfortunately, the thought of talking to Francis of all people about Renée made Miles want to curl up in a ball and get beaten to death by sledgehammers, so that wasn’t really something he could do casually.

When he didn’t respond, Francis only got more agitated, “Answer me, Miles! Why did you never tell me that you two…did it?” The words sounded like they punctured his tongue as he said them.

“Because I was ashamed of it, okay!” He finally let out, feeling his face flush red-hot as he felt the words spill out of him like lava.

Francis took another step towards him, so that their faces were only a few inches apart, “Why? There’s nothing wrong with it Miles,” He looked a little sheepish about being so hostile and his voice had softened significantly, though it hadn’t lost all of the insistence, “It’s only natural-”

Before Francis could start on that route, Miles clarified urgently what he meant, without revealing too much, “I was ashamed because I did it while being in love with someone else.”

Okay, he’d committed to it now, there was no going back. He could do this.

Francis widened his eyes so much that they looked like they were almost going to pop out, “Miles…who-”

Interrupting him again, Miles grabbed the sides of Francis’ head, pulling him towards him and pressing their lips together, tightly at first and then easing to a more comfortable pressure. Originally, Francis squirmed a little, unsure of what to do, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into him, succumbing to the pleasure like a weight had fallen off his shoulders and crumbled upon impact with the ground. Once Francis began reciprocating, the kiss morphed into a desperate show of passion, a release of many years of suppression, all culminating into a raw, almost animalistic pressing of faces. Every draw for breath was too long spent apart, their lips snapping back together like magnets. Francis initially was holding onto Miles’ hips, but as they continued on, his hands migrated under his shirt gradually, his boiling-hot palms making Miles’ skin tingle with want.

At some point, Francis ended up against the wall and it was actually him that slipped his tongue in first, to which Miles welcomed without a second thought. They remained like that for a while, gripping and gasping together like they’d been waiting to do this for a lifetime. Blood rushing to their heads (maybe some other places too) and no sign of slowing. This was what Miles had been yearning for over the past few years and it seemed Francis had been too. Their bodies were pressed up against each other, tense but also relaxed at the same time, an impossible medium that they’d never felt before as long as this. Miles never wanted it to be over, even though he knew they’d have to stop eventually and he began to feel that curl in his stomach when they both started tiring, their contact softening but not ending just yet.

It was actually quite nice, despite how aggressively they were kissing before, the cooldown had this tenderness that Miles craved just as much. This also gave Miles the opportunity to detach from Francis’ lips and make his way down to his neck, leaving soft kisses everywhere he moved. Francis’ breath hitched in his throat, his hands digging into Miles’ sides out of euphoria.

“Miles…” He whimpered, breathing heavily, “How long-”

He gasped as Miles sucked at his skin, unable to finish his sentence. Miles couldn’t bear to talk, the thought of removing his lips from Francis almost scaring him.

Miles moved back up to Francis’ lips, gently kissing him, partially from exhaustion and partially from wanting him to be quiet. Questions could be answered later.

But then, what Miles had been terrified of this whole time began to take shape. The first sign was Francis trembling beneath him, his hands loosening their grip from the motions. Each breath between kisses turned into three and not long after that, Francis pulled his face away, eyes wincing at the loss.

But, rather than letting it be this time, Miles pressed his forehead against Francis’ and whispered, “You’re okay, just breathe.”

Francis shook his head slightly, but did begin taking deeper breaths, quivering at each exhale. A couple tears fell from Francis’ eyes, but it wasn’t to the point of fully weeping yet, so Miles thought they could salvage this together. However, his heart sank when he heard what Francis said after.

“I-…I can’t do this Miles,” He choked, his breathing quickening again.

“Yes, you can Fran, even if it takes a while, I will wait as long as I have to.”

Rather than calming down though, Francis only seemed to start freaking out more. Hyperventilating, tears falling more rapidly than before. He pushed Miles away from him and glared directly into his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing Miles?” He exclaimed, some of his voice dissolving into a wheeze, “You have a girlfriend and you just showed me that it’s not her that you want.”

Miles’ stomach dropped as he fully processed what he’d just done. He kissed Francis while he was still technically in a relationship with Renée. Even though he’d decided he was going to break up with her soon, he’d still cheated. God, he was such an asshole.

“I-…” Miles scrambled to find the words to defend himself, but he rapidly figured out he couldn’t. There was no reasonable justification for what he did, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” Francis reminded him. It was odd, he seemed more upset than angry at him.

“I know,” Miles assured, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you going to be honest with her?”

“Yeah, of course,” It made it easier accepting that he had to tell her, considering they were going to break up anyway, “I never should’ve dated her in the first place, I knew that it wasn’t fair on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Miles felt like he was going to vomit, “I’m in love with you Fran. I have known since freshman year.”

For a while, Francis didn’t even appear to be breathing. He held onto himself very tightly, presumably trying to process all of that. Now he’d said it, it was like all of his inhibitions had melted away.

Miles then continued, “I asked Renée out because I was trying to avoid dealing with how I felt about you, not because I had feelings for her.”

Francis sighed deeply, putting his head in his hands, “You knew you loved me for that long?”

Miles nodded gloomily, foreseeing what was coming, “Yeah, for that long.”

“I…I think I always knew. Somewhere, deep down, I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Those words cut Miles to the core, “Why not?”

“You know why,” He looked back into Miles’ eyes, his own dull and dejected, “I can’t be who you want me to be Miles, I can’t be your boyfriend. Not because of Renée, because of me. I…care about you, I didn’t want to have to say no.”

“Then don’t,” Miles cursed at how his voice broke, “I’m willing to take as much time as you need, we can work through it together.”

Francis shook his head sadly, “I can’t. You don’t know how much I want to, but I just can’t.”

Even though Miles didn’t believe him, he also knew that was it for now. There wasn’t going to be any changing of his mind currently, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.

“Okay,” Miles breathed out, shaking himself slightly, “I understand,” He felt the knife twist in both of their stomachs, “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

“I know.”

“Are we cool?” He hated to leave it there, he wanted to do so much more, but he knew he couldn’t rush things.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Miles turned to hug him and Francis held him so tightly, his ribs were almost being crushed.

“I’m sorry,” Francis snivelled.

“It’s okay, I still love you,” He wanted to say it at least one more time.

“I…” Miles waited in anticipation for what Francis was going to say.

“…I know.”

Chapter Text

Moving Francis into the apartment wasn’t exactly an ordeal. This was primarily a result of the fact he had almost nothing to move. The whole process surmounted to a single car drive with everything crammed inside like it was when Francis was initially kicked out, plus Miles, which wasn’t the most comfortable of journeys, but it meant that after they’d cleared it all out, it was done.

“Wait ‘till you see this,” Francis wiggled his eyebrows at Miles with a wide grin on his face as they were walking into the lobby of the apartment block.

The building was squeezed in the outskirts of the city, which actually bordered Ray’s neighbourhood, still reasonably close to the school driving-distance-wise but was significantly further from Miles’ house than he was in his parent’s house. Sure, it was only a twenty-minute journey on wheels, but definitely not walking distance any more, much to Miles’ chagrin. Whatever, that wasn’t important and at the end of the day, it wasn’t about him.

The pair stopped just short of the staircase, where Francis rushed to the right of them to point out an elevator.

“Ta-da! One of the pros of living in an apartment block, is this!” He used Pansy’s guitar case to gesture towards it and then lifted a finger off his cane to press the button to make it come down, as Miles’ hands were taken up by a large box that mostly consisted of Francis’ music and other loose things.

“Our school should take notes,” Miles shimmied himself into the metal container carefully, as he could barely see over what he was carrying.

That elevator also made moving everything into the apartment ten times faster, as Francis could only hold one thing at a time and if they were forced to repeatedly go up and down the stairs to get everything, Miles would’ve made Francis stay put so he could bring things up by himself.

When he voiced this to his friend though, Francis scoffed, “You’re acting like I can’t use stairs at all, when I literally used them multiple times this morning to load the car.”

“I know you can, but I also watched you almost fall down them fifty times because you can’t use a railing when holding an amp,” He shivered, “Plus you take forever.”

Francis elbowed him and Miles stumbled and almost dropped the box, “Almost is the key word here. I didn’t properly fall over once.”

This was true, but Miles never wanted to relive the constant pierces of panic he experienced every time he saw his friend wobble while bringing down his things. All because he was too stubborn to let Miles do it alone.

After a battle with the keys for Francis’ door, Miles took his first look at the apartment. Frankly, there wasn’t much to look at. It was small, the only separate room to the main one being the bathroom, which meant that the bed was only a couple feet away from the kitchen sink. Much like Illi’s dorm room, the place had this stale, cardboard-y smell, which wasn’t the worst thing it could smell of, but definitely not pleasant. There was a singular window, which faced out to the building across the street and Miles estimated would get an hour-max of sunlight per day if Francis was lucky. In fact, he’d probably get most of his ‘natural light’ from the streetlamp that was also across the street. All this aside, the apartment was fine. No visible mould or dampness, the tap water ran clear and they confirmed themselves that the temperature settings on the shower actually worked, so overall, not the worst apartment either of them had heard of.

When the evening arrived, to celebrate the move they ordered a pizza and watched a shitty action film on the tiny TV that came with the apartment. As his friend was dusting off the final piece, Miles asked abruptly, “Do you want me to stay here tonight?”

Francis thought about it while he was chewing on the crust and after he swallowed, he said, “No, I think it’s better if I start trying to get used to sleeping on my own again.”

Something about that sentence made Miles want to throw himself out of the window, “I guess that applies to me too,” He attempted to laugh, poorly hiding his solemness.

“You sound like I’m moving to Canada or something,” Francis giggled at him, “Y’know I’m literally sleeping ‘round yours tomorrow, right?”

Admittedly, Miles had forgotten about that, so it did make him feel marginally better about all of this. Though the only reason Francis was staying over was that it was the day that Illi was leaving for college again and he knew that Miles always struggled on the first night without her in the house.

“I know, I really need to stop making a big deal out of it.”

Then, Francis smiled, “I did enjoy living with you, I’ll admit, I much preferred it to sleeping in my car,” He laughed when Miles rolled his eyes, “But seriously, thank you for letting me stay with you, especially for as long as I did.”

“You really should be thanking my parents, you know full well I would’ve never said no. Though, they told me you’ve been thanking them consistently anyway.”

“I’ll make sure to do it again tomorrow as well.”

When the movie finished up, Francis drove Miles home. The journey was silent, only the gentle rumble of the engine breaking through and Miles tried not to think about how it was going to take this long to travel to see each other outside of school from this point onwards. The brake lights on the surrounding vehicles were blinding, especially with the wet roads reflecting them and for a while, he closed his eyes, only opening them when the car came to a stop. They were outside his house. Miles looked at Francis and Francis looked at Miles, pity in his eyes, which Miles hated. He reluctantly unbuckled his seatbelt. Francis didn’t. Just before he got out, Miles leant across the gearstick to hug his friend tightly and he hugged him back. Neither of them seemed to want to let go, until Francis pushed him away slightly.

“I’ll be alright and so will you,” He reassured him gently, “Now go, or I’ll drag you out myself.”

Miles waved at Francis as he drove away before sprinting inside to get out of the freezing rain. Rather than going to his own bedroom, he invaded Illi’s, flopping on her bed while she was sat at her desk, drawing.

“Not easy for you to say goodbye, huh?” She was audibly smirking but Miles was too bummed to cuss her out.

Instead, he just groaned into her pillow and Illi came to sit down next to where his head was laying and rubbed his back.

“Is the apartment nice at least?”

Miles shuffled around so he was laying on his back now rather than his stomach, batting Illi’s hand away as he sat up.

“It’s fine. Tiny, but fine,” He sighed and Illi frowned at him, “I still think he was rushing things, but what’s done is done.”

“I heard you two arguing the other day,” She sighed, “What was that about?”

Coldly, Miles’ laughter rippled through his throat, “God, what wasn’t it about?”

“Tell me.”

He sighed again, “It started off being about the apartment, but then it devolved into us talking about Renée and then…” Miles was involuntarily cut off by his words dissolving in his mouth, “We kissed and I told him that I loved him.”

In that moment, Illi seemed to rapidly go through the five stages of grief before responding, “You cheated on Renée?”

Miles nodded, feeling the shame envelope him once more.

“Oh God, I want to congratulate you for finally spitting it out, but it feels so wrong in these circumstances.”

“Illi…” He grimaced, “He didn’t say it back.”

The fact that she appeared shocked by this only made the sinking feeling in Miles’ stomach intensify, “He didn’t?”

Miles shook his head.

Illi thought about it and it didn’t take long for something to hit her, “Milli, I know for a fact that Francis loves you with every fibre of his being and you know it too. But you also know better than anyone how difficult all of this is for him,” She embraced him, “Don’t overthink it. You’re both trying your hardest.”

“Thank you.”

</3

The next morning, Miles got a text from Renée saying that she’d gotten home and he responded ‘great =]’ and immediately felt like he was going to throw up. He hadn’t organised to see her that day and she knew he was busy with Illi leaving so it wasn’t like it was unusual. But it still felt so wrong to pretend that everything was alright when there was so much going on that she didn’t even know about. He had to tell her in person, she deserved that at least, but there was no way Miles was going to do that at school, so he would have to keep the act up for just a little bit longer. That wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

Sending Illi off was always the toughest part of it for their parents, but for Miles, at night when everything had settled and it finally hit him that she was gone; that was what broke him. It never got any easier. Francis always spent it with him to try and soften the blow a little, but it never fully numbed the pain. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he at no time ever got used to her being away and this time it stung even more. For a few months he didn’t have to bear the ache of an empty house, but now that had been taken away from him too. He wanted to be angry at Francis for insisting he move out, but he knew he couldn’t be. Still, he felt that lingering bitterness rise inside him and it all came to a head that evening.

They were watching Dawn of the Dead for what was maybe the billionth time and Miles was practically laying on top of Francis. Focusing on the film and on his friend tended to be the best way to do it, Miles found, but it just wasn’t doing the trick that night. It didn’t help that every time either one of them moved, Miles felt Francis’ crucifix around his friend’s neck press into his back and eventually he just couldn’t take it anymore. He scrambled off the bed, only answering Francis’ questions with disgruntled groans before finally saying, “I can’t take this,” and storming downstairs into the backyard. He dropped the cigarette pack while trying to open it and his lighter too shortly after. It was frigid outside, but the numbness in his limbs served as the first good distraction for his brain of the night. He wheezed after the first drag, his airways protesting everything he was exposing them to, but he continued regardless. He barely smoked anymore, but he couldn’t think of anything else that would calm his nerves as adequately as nicotine did. Not now, anyway.

This feeling was so familiar it was intoxicating. Diving back into old habits face-first because he didn’t know anything else. He knew it was wrong. He knew that his attachment often did more damage than good, he had been through this before. Yet, he couldn’t help but revel in it. Let the selfish impulses consume him for a brief moment before being yanked back into the real world where he had already experienced first-hand that those kinds of actions have serious consequences. He couldn’t force him to stay and that was what he loathed the most.

Just as Miles began choking on his own breath, Francis appeared in the doorway, tossing his inhaler at him with probably the most unimpressed expression that Miles had ever seen in his life. It even rivalled his sister’s.

“Before you kill yourself in the lamest way possible, I’d like you to tell me what’s bothering you so much,” Francis grunted, hands now tucked into the pockets of the new coat Miles’ parents had gotten him.

Miles took a minute to get his breathing back to normal, during which Francis took a couple steps closer to him.

Eventually, he coughed out, “It’s nothing new,” and before Miles could place the cigarette back into his mouth, Francis snatched it from him and took a drag for himself. After he muttered the word ‘asshole’ Miles then added, “Just because we’ve talked about all this shit before doesn’t mean I magically stop caring about it.”

Fortunately, Francis seemed satisfied with this answer, raising his eyebrows, curling his lips slightly and nodding before motioning that they should go back inside. Rather than going back to Miles’ bedroom, they sat on the couch, no background visuals or noise, just them two drinking each other in. Surprisingly enough, Francis didn’t actually finish the smoke, just stamped it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

“I know things kind of suck for you right now,” Francis had his feet up, cross-legged on the cushions, “And I know I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear the other day,” This comment jolted Miles slightly – they actually hadn’t properly talked about Miles’ confession since it happened, “But if I can do anything to make this easier, please tell me.”

In that moment, about a thousand different ideas flooded Miles’ mind, but most of the ones he thought would genuinely help, were the ones that would probably make him sound super whiney, like a dickhead, or both. So, in the end, he tucked his knees under his chin and shot a face at Francis to say, ‘you know what would help, I just won’t ask you for it’ and he seemed to understand.

Francis sighed but then smiled, “You’re a damn good kisser y’know? No wonder you got around so much in middle school,” He chuckled but Miles was too preoccupied with the cacophonous hurricane that was going on in his mind when he said that to appreciate it.

“I have been told that,” He admitted, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Miles couldn’t help but giggle when Francis’ face blazed red like a firework, but his stomach dropped a little when his friend started to frown.

“I just wish I could do it without freaking out,” Miles couldn’t have agreed more, “It just…happens. Last time, I thought I was going to be able to do it, but then boom. It’s like my mind explodes.”

“Is it a duration thing? Like do you think you could take it if the kiss was shorter?” Miles was testing the waters here; also, maybe sending a few signals while he was at it.

“I don’t know, I can’t say I have much experience,” Francis chuckled pathetically, “It’s not like I’ve kissed anyone but you since my parents chased Hunter out of the house. In a way, me kissing you in freshman year was an experiment to see if I could just soldier through it. Sure, it was still an impulse decision, but that was why I called it selfish I…felt like I used you in a way.”

Miles was kind of thrown off by the mention of their first kiss – they’d both done a decent job at pretending it didn’t happen and had barely talked about it at all.

“I thought you called it selfish because you thought I didn’t like you back.”

“That too,” Francis smiled crookedly, “I still think I never should’ve kissed you back then though, maybe even more so now that I know you…feel that way.”

“It was a dream come true until you started telling me things like it ‘meant nothing’,” Miles wasn’t going to put it lightly, even after this long, that night still haunted him, “Even though I didn’t believe you, it still hurt.”

“I want to fix what happened, or at least make it up to you, especially after making you not talk about it.”

“I told Illi you kissed me that night,” Miles corrected, feeling comfortable telling him that now, “She sensed something was up, she knows me too well, I couldn’t exactly not tell her.” ‘Sensed’ kind of danced around what actually happened, but he thought Francis didn’t have to know the details.

“Oh,” He raised his eyebrows, breaking eye-contact with Miles, “I probably should have expected that.”

“I know how you can make it up to me,” Miles redirected, Francis’ face snapping back towards his in eager interest, “Can I just…be selfish myself for a moment?”

His heart began racing as he asked that, his body breaking out in a cold sweat within record time. This only intensified when Francis nodded, perplexed but expectant.

So, Miles shuffled closer to him on the sofa, leaned in and kissed Francis on the lips. It didn’t last long, only a few seconds and Miles used all the strength he had to pull away after those few seconds were up, but this was an experiment of his own. A sharp inhale came through Francis’ nose as they made contact, but he didn’t protest. Given that it was a short kiss, it was still wonderful; Miles savoured the feeling on his mouth as much as he could and the heat of Francis’ body swathed Miles’ cold exterior. When they parted, Miles remained close, only couple centimetres away and heard Francis exhale deeply yet shakily. But otherwise, his body wasn’t quivering at all and he certainly wasn’t crying. But he had to make sure.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice quiet and breathy, not actually on purpose.

It took a couple moments for him to respond, but eventually Francis said weakly, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” He backed up a little further just so he could see him better.

“I-…” He stuttered, trying to pull together the words, but the longer he spent thinking about it, the more uneasy he looked, “I need some water.”

Rapidly, Francis stood up and almost ran to the kitchen. Miles debated whether he should follow him, eventually getting up and waddling his way over, approaching slowly to where his friend was chugging down a glass of water like he was dying of thirst in the middle of the Sahara Desert. They stood across from each other on opposite sides of the kitchen island while Francis appeared to be trying to pull himself together. He was shivering now, but there still were no tears to be seen. Miles must’ve been making a weird face or something because Francis suddenly started laughing at him.

“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here,” Despite not knowing what was so funny, Miles couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You and me both,” Francis refilled his glass at the tap, “You and me both,” He repeated as he took a sip.

“I’m sorry if I upset you or anything, I just wanted to see if it made much of a difference,” He wrung out his hands and Francis shook his head at him.

“No uh…I think it was worth a test, just to see,” He put the glass down and crossed his arms, “The very first time we kissed, I panicked because I got a flashback from when my parents caught me and Hunter,” He explained, though Miles had sort of inferred that, “But that didn’t happen before or just now.”

“So, what causes you to freak out?” Miles was a massive fan of Francis’ willingness to talk about it.

Francis sighed, “It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’s like this switch that gets flipped in my brain involuntarily that makes all the thoughts I’m trying to ignore and push away crash back into my head.”

“What do these thoughts say?” It felt like a stupid question and when Francis froze up, Miles realised it was, “Never mind, I can probably guess.” But he could work with this. Now that he had more of an idea of what Francis was going through, he could start figuring out how to ideally stop it from happening, or even just make it easier to deal with.

“You see why I can’t be who you need, Miles?” His grip tightened at his arms, “With some things I can keep that switch off, but as soon as it gets more serious and well…explicit, I can’t stop it. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Honestly, Miles was too tired to argue with him about this detail. As much as he was desperate to convince him not to give up hope, it was also reaching absurd o’clock in the morning and he could tell that productive conversation was reaching its limits. At least any sort of productive conversation that involved any sort of rational thinking and open-mindedness. As a result, Miles just pursed his lips in acknowledgement and wordlessly headed upstairs to try and get some sleep.

They had a single day left of Christmas break and tomorrow, Miles was planning on finally breaking the news to Renée.

</3

The diner was really not as full and noisy as Miles would have liked. Any sort of busyness could’ve drowned out what was undoubtedly going to be one of the most horrific conversations of his life. The worst part of this was that Miles genuinely really liked Renée and he wished he could go back in time and reintroduce himself to her as just a friend, but he’d made his bed and now he had to suffocate in it. What kept him the most on edge though, was that he had no idea how she was going to react. Badly – he knew that much, but he was unsure what kind of badly. The past month and a bit hadn’t given him much of an image of what breaking this sort of news would entail specifically. She didn’t seem like the type to simply cry; if she was going to cry at all, he thought it would be while she was cursing his entire bloodline and his neighbours. Oh shit, was she going to be violent with him? He supposed he deserved a slap or two, but the last thing he wanted to happen was for other people in the diner to get involved.

A bell rang from behind him, indicating someone had walked in and Miles turned around to see that it was in fact his girlfriend. He stood up to hug her, they kissed – it had been a couple weeks since they last saw each other after all – and they sat down at the booth Miles was waiting in. Ahead of time, Miles had already ordered them drinks, Renée her favourite milkshake that she always got when they were there and the delight on her face upon seeing them arrive at the table just made Miles’ stomach curdle.

“How was Christmas?” She asked him, happily slurping on the drink.

“It was uh- really good, yeah. How was yours?” He attempted at a smile.

She groaned, “Boring I think sums it up. I mean, seeing family is nice and all, but there’s only so much of them you can take,” They both laughed, but Renée’s face dropped. She raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you alright? You seem down.”

God, Miles really wasn’t great at hiding his emotions, wasn’t he? “Renée, I have something I need to tell you.”

He sighed when her face morphed into a mixture of confusion and worry, “What is it?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you during our relationship and I was a fucking idiot as a direct result of that,” A sort of look of dawning terror washed over her face and Miles winced, “Renée I…” He tried not to vomit, “I kissed someone else.”

Miles rubbed at his eyes as Renée remained dead-silent. A couple agonising seconds passed before she growled, “Who?”

Oh God, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to drag Francis into this, but she at least deserved to know it was him, “Please, I’m begging you don’t repeat this to anyone after I tell you. You can say all you want about me cheating because I deserve that, but don’t mention his name.”

“Why should I? It’s not like our relationship is unknow- wait a second, his?” Only in this moment, did Miles realise that he’d never mentioned his bisexuality to her.

Miles nodded slowly, “Yes, I like guys, but that’s not important,” He dismissed that particular detail for now, “The person I kissed was Francis, okay? You see why I’m asking you to keep him out of it? People already treat him like shit for his sexuality, if it gets around that I cheated on you with him, it would only add fuel to the fire and…” He cursed at his voice for trembling, “He has a hard enough time with it, don’t you think?”

Renée scowled, “Well, he should’ve thought of that before he let my boyfriend make out with him.”

“Please, Renée. Look, I take full responsibility for all of it, okay? I instigated it and there’s kind of a history there that I don’t think either of us want to get into,” He was getting desperate now. By this point, he didn’t care what she did as long as it didn’t involve Francis.

“A history? When were you planning on telling me you and Francis are more complicated than just being friends?” She raised her voice slightly, clenching her fists.

“I didn’t think I would need to!” His breathing quickened, “But I was wrong, I know that now.”

 A minute or two of silence passed, Renée had her arms crossed, leaning back into her seat not making eye contact with Miles. He held his head in his hands, the anticipation of what she was going to say making his nausea worsen.

“I’ll keep him out of it,” She ultimately conceded, “But only because I’ve seen how people treat him and I know how that’s not even the worst he’s experienced.”

“Thank you,” He felt his nerves instantly go from a hundred to zero – well, more like a hundred to about forty. He still had to deal with the remainder of the break up.

“And in fact, I’m not going to go around telling people you cheated on me, Miles, because you know what?” Her voice stayed impressively level, but her tone was cut-throat to say the least, “You may be attractive, but you’re still the loser who only has time for his crippled boyfriend.”

“How dare you talk about him like that!” Miles slammed his fist against the table and instantly regretted it, “Ahh- fuck!”

“And don’t you think about blabbing about this to anyone else! I’ll be the laughing stock of the school if people found out I was stupid enough to date a fucking faggot!” Only raising her voice on that last bit, she stood up and began storming out of the diner, with Miles hot on her heels, trying to ignore the staring customers.

They got to the car park, where Renée turned around, a murderous glare in her eyes. Miles stopped a few feet away from her, keeping his distance slightly out of respect but mostly out of fear of being pummelled.

“I’m not fucking gay if that’s what you think,” Miles clarified, “I liked you Renée, I truly did.”

“I don’t think you are, but everyone else will if this gets out,” She took a step closer to him and Miles took a step back out of reflex. This only made her seethe however, “Are you fucking scared of me?”

“No-” Miles said automatically, but re-thought it, “Yes, I mean- I fully believe you could destroy me in a fight, so I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I’m not gonna beat you up Miles, what am I? A cokehead? I’m not a fists-up-first kind of person, unlike you and Francis. I’m smarter than that.”

Miles groaned at this remark, “Neither of us have laid a hand on anyone since freshman year! You think we would resort to violence after Francis broke most of his ribs and bled out behind the school? You think we would ever risk that happening again?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” She threw her arms into the air, “If you’re dumb and impulsive enough to kiss each other despite the fact you’re in a relationship with someone else, then I don’t think it’s implausible that you’d start a fight simply out of rage.”

“Well then, you really don’t know me, do you?”

“No, I don’t, because you decided I wasn’t enough for you less than two fucking months in,” She got into her car, started the engine and rolled the windows down, “It’s over, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Miles tried not to break down in front of her, “I need you to know that I never wanted to humiliate you at all.”

Renée took a deep breath, “Go to Hell, Miles,” She spat before speeding away, leaving Miles in a literal cloud of dust.

For a while, Miles just stood there, gazing out into the open road, unable to move the muscles in his body. Inevitably, when he managed to get into his car, he put his head on the steering wheel, preparing to bawl his eyes out. But he didn’t. He thought he would, but nothing was coming out. After what felt like hours sitting there, he finally drove off, knowing exactly where he was going.

Buzzing the apartment with the pad-thing near the entrance to the building, Miles hoped he remembered the number correctly. Soon, Francis’ voice rang out, saying, “Who is it?” and Miles couldn’t even finish saying his name before the transmission cut-off and Francis was exiting the elevator to unlock the door to let Miles into the complex.

“Yeesh, you look terrible,” Francis giggled at him and Miles flipped him off.

“Thanks,” He grumbled sarcastically, “I just love the constant support that I get from you.”

“Hey, I’m not supporting anything,” He turned to walk back to the elevator, “You cheated on her, dude.”

“Yeah, with you,” Miles reminded him, but Francis only giggled harder.

“I seem to remember that you kissed me, actually. I was just beguiled by your manly charm,” He teased and this was the first time Miles had ever been tempted to punch the guy.

“Fuck off,” He pressed the button for Miles’ floor and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I have vodka in the freezer, by the way,” He mentioned as the elevator doors closed.

“You’re my hero.”

Francis smirked, “As always.”

For a second Miles was brought back down to Earth when it clued into his mind that seriously? One of the first things Francis got for groceries was alcohol? But it quickly dissipated when his friend passed him the whole bottle for him to start making dents in whilst Francis made them dinner. Well, ‘made’ was a strong word. ‘Heat up’ was probably a better way of putting it.

“Don’t drink the whole thing by yourself, I paid for that shit for once and I’m not spending the night with you in hospital when we have school tomorrow,” Francis said while watching the hot pockets spin around in the microwave.

“I can tell you paid for it, I don’t think you can get more budget than this,” Miles examined the tacky label, where the price-marker took up more space than the word ‘vodka’.

“People who pay a fortune for bourgeois vodka are morons,” He handed one of the hot pockets to Miles and sat down beside him, “It tastes vile either way.”

He said this while Miles was taking a swig that he had to ripple his body to swallow before handing it over to his friend, “I can agree with you there.”

“On a scale of painful to castration with blunt scissors, how’d it go?”

Miles blew a raspberry, “Could’ve been worse I guess, but that entire diner heard her call me a faggot, so I don’t know if I can go back for a while.”

Francis whistled and passed him back the bottle after taking a drink for himself, during which he glanced down at Miles’ hand and paused, “What happened there?” He pointed at where the side of his palm had bruised from the collision with the table.

Sighing, Miles inspected it himself as he’d not actually noticed it until Francis had asked, “I hit it against the table.”

Francis snorted, “Why?”

“She-” He cut himself off to think about whether he should tell him the truth, “I kind of lashed out when she…insulted you. I didn’t want to tell her that you were involved, but she wanted to know.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Francis chuckled warmly and Miles was just relieved that he didn’t ask for specifics, “It doesn’t look broken, so at least you didn’t pull a Ray.”

“Yeah, thank God,” He took another gulp from the bottle, “That would’ve been mortifying.”

“Maybe even worse than having to tell your girlfriend she got cucked by the least popular guy in school.”

“Ex-girlfriend now,” Miles breathed out, almost calmed by the fact it was done, “Also you don’t give yourself enough credit, you won a bit of sympathy-popularity from almost dying two years ago.”

The laugh that erupted out of Francis’ mouth made Miles jump out of his skin from surprise, “Oh the best kind, I really am a lucky duck for scoring pity-points from the few people with empathy.”

Miles just shrugged, “Better than none?”

Francis shoved him slightly, “If you say so.”

It hadn’t even struck midnight when the pair had officially drunk themselves into oblivion and Francis was rubbing circles into Miles’ back while he lost his dinner, lunch, breakfast and possibly even last night’s dinner too. They’d almost finished the bottle between them and Miles was baffled at how Francis didn’t even look queasy, but he didn’t dwell on it much as a result of the constant vomiting he was doing. It wouldn’t have shocked him if he’d spent longer hunched over the toilet bowl than drinking the damn thing that did this to him, which may have been another reason as to why he was throwing up. Throughout all of it, Francis stuck with him, rubbing his back and making sure he didn’t drown in his own bile.

“If there’s any proof you love me, it’s this,” He leant the side of his face on the toilet seat and stared at Francis, who was looking back with both gratitude and concern. Despite how there was definitely nothing left in Miles’ stomach by this point, he was still grotesquely drunk.

“Why’d you need proof?” He smiled modestly at him, acting unreasonably sober for someone who’d drank a similar amount of alcohol.

“Because you never said it to me directly. I’m kinda working on assumptions right now.”

“I’m more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy,” Francis explained, guiding Miles’ shoulders backwards so he was laying against him now.

“Yeah, but words would still be nice,” Miles whined and Francis giggled at him.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”

“Will you be mad at me if I accidently chuck up on your bed?” Miles’ head pounded as he stood up and the dizziness almost made him fall over.

“Depends, can you afford to buy me a new mattress?”

“Okay, I’ll try not to,” He inched his way to the bed, which consisted of a mattress, two blankets piled on top of each other and a single pillow. No sheets or anything. But it served its purpose well enough.

</3

It seemed as though the exchange Francis made for not throwing up was what was probably the worst hangover he’d ever had. Or at least the worst that Miles had witnessed. He had one too, but it wasn’t nearly as severe, probably on account of all the vomit. They didn’t speak at all to each other until they began heading the car, after Miles made the strongest coffee he could with it still being in liquid form, which they both definitely needed.

“Can you drive? I think I might crash the car if I try,” He asked as they got to the parking lot – Miles had assumed he was driving anyway, so it was no issue.

“Bad leg, or hangover migraine?”

“Both.”

Miles gasped through his teeth, “Ouch.”

After briefly stopping off back at Miles’ so he could get changed into his uniform, they made it to school about half an hour late, but neither of them had the will to care. What they did care about though, was the embarrassment of having to walk into a lesson midway through, so they both camped out in the top-floor storage closet until the bell rang. This was about the only moment of quietness they got the entire day, as neither of them were interested in any form of conversation; well, apart from amused raising of eyebrows at each other when they heard weird noises coming from the corridor. By the time their second lesson started however, they were both thrust into the blinding fluorescent lights and obnoxious slurry of kids and like some kind of cruel joke, they had music.

As the walked into the room, Renée was already sat in her place, staring into space until she caught eye of Miles and Francis and her vacant expression quickly transformed into a pout. It was some crazy stink-eye that ran chills through Miles’ spine. At first, he thought Francis didn’t even notice, but as they were about level with where she was sat, the boy stopped, chewing at his cheek. His eyes then slid sideways without him turning his head, his eyebrows quirked and rapidly his eyes widened and his head jerked towards her in attempt to make her jump, which he succeeded in. Miles had to hold in a snicker. When they sat themselves down, Miles looked at his friend, who kept his eyeline ahead of him, still chewing on his cheek.

“I thought you were on her side,” Miles mumbled to him, still trying not to laugh out loud.

“I am,” Francis sighed, “But today is not the day where you give me the stink eye.”

At lunchtime, Miles became convinced he was just in one excruciatingly long nightmare, as Hunter of all people came up to them on the stone steps. Francis seemed about ready to throw himself off them when he saw him, but Hunter seemed to sense that and held his hands out to try and say he came in peace.

“What the fuck do you want?” Miles didn’t hesitate to ask.

“Look, I just need to tell you guys something important, okay? Nothing more,” The way Hunter acted around them after the incident in freshman year had not changed one bit and Miles hated it. Being an awkward, cowardly shell of what he was before wasn’t a good look – hell, he would’ve preferred it if he simply continued being an asshole. This new persona was borderline infuriating to see on someone who Miles thought should’ve been at best expelled and at worst locked away like Jason for what he did.

“Can you spare it for another day? I’m really not in the mood,” Francis groaned, “Or is it really that urgent?”

“It would be better if I said it sooner rather than later,” He twiddled his thumbs and Miles could feel the irritation radiating off his friend.

“Fine, whatever.”

This was when Hunter somehow managed to appear even more nervous than before, biting at his nails before saying, “I met up with Jason over Christmas.”

“What?!” Miles unintentionally yelled, but after a couple seconds of embarrassment he decided it was actually an appropriate reaction. He looked over at Francis, whose eyes had widened so much that it looked painful.

“He contacted me and I only went to see what the heck he wanted from me,” Hunter put his hands in front of him again like they were going to hurt him, which only enraged Miles more.

“And calling the police didn’t cross your mind?” Miles continued, putting his hand on Francis’. Originally, he thought he was just going to shift his hand away, but instead he moved it in order to grip onto it himself.

“I thought that what I could get from him would be more valuable than whatever the police could do, okay? He tells me shit he tells no one else, that’s how it’s always been,” Francis looked like he was going to throw up, which Miles didn’t want to think too hard about. It was probably just the hangover.

“What did he want?” Francis asked, his tone level and a lot calmer than Miles, which kind of surprised him.

“He wanted to know things,” Hunter began, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, “At first, it was just stuff about me; how I’ve been and all that. But…” He trailed off.

“But what?” Francis’ tone got more sinister, grating against his throat like sandpaper.

Hunter took a deep breath in and pinched his eyes closed, only opening them when he said, “He then started asking about you guys.”

“Hunter, if you tell me right now that you said anything that has put us in danger, I will beat the crap out of you with my crutch,” Francis squinted slightly and the look of pure terror on Hunter’s face would’ve made Miles smirk if he wasn’t scared shitless about what he may have told him.

“I didn’t, I swear on my own life,” Hunter insisted, crossing his heart, “But this is why I’m telling you guys this,” He sighed a deep, shaky sigh, “He hasn’t changed at all. Not one tiny bit.”

They all felt the air around them thicken and Miles felt his chest tighten, his pulse rapidly accelerating. Francis’ disposition was indescribable. It unsettled Miles to the core, he had never ever seen him look like this through his entire time knowing him.

To elaborate further, Hunter continued speaking, “If anything, juvey made him angrier, arrogant. It’s not a case that he thinks he’s done nothing wrong, it’s that he knows he has and is proud of it.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Francis stood up, making his way down the stone steps to become level with Hunter’s field of view, stared directly in his eyes for a few seconds before saying, “Fuck you, Hunter,” and spitting on him. Then, he barked, “Fuck you for your goddamn modesty, acting like Jason was the sole reason I died twice and now can’t walk without a fucking crutch because you thought the worst thing that could happen to you was being forcibly outed to everyone.”

After this, Francis marched away and Miles almost began following him to interrogate what on Earth he meant by him dying twice, but he then remembered he had a lot he wanted to say to Hunter in that moment. Grabbing him by the shirt-collar and slamming him against sides of the steps (though he wasn’t strong enough to lift him up like Illi did a few years ago), Miles shouted, “What exactly was your aim in telling us this?”

Hyperventilating, Hunter gasped out, “I just thought you should know! So you can be, y’know, careful now? Knowing that he’s still dangerous?”

Miles then pulled him away from the steps just to thrust him back into them, “We are being fucking careful! If you seriously thought for one second that we assumed he’d been reformed by juvey, then you should seriously re-evaluate your perspective on what happened that afternoon. I’m aware of yours and Fran’s history, alright? If you ever genuinely loved him, then you should understand what all of us went through during and after that afternoon.”

“I-…” He choked, seeming unsure of what to say to that, “I didn’t intend for things to get that bad.”

Miles let go of him and crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, they did and there’s nothing you can do to make it better, okay? So back the fuck off and leave us alone.”

Subsequently, Hunter darted off away from him and Miles hightailed it to where he thought Francis went. He needed to find out what he was talking about. Dying twice? When did that happen? Was it metaphorical? No, Francis was too literal for that to be a metaphor – even if he used metaphors more often, he wouldn’t for something in that nature. He opened the door to the storage cupboard, where unsurprisingly, Francis was sat smoking.

Before Miles could say anything, Francis guessed exactly what he was thinking, “Dr Wren said they lost me again for a moment sometime after they took me away from you guys. But apparently, they were expecting it, so I was only dead for a minute or two before the defib’ did its magic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Miles sat down. His friend didn’t look at him.

“You didn’t need to know. Especially not back then, you were already a wreck as it was; don’t think I wasn’t aware of that.”

“So were you,” Miles reminded him, scowling slightly, “But she still told you.”

“She only told me because I asked,” Francis clarified, now finally looking at him in the eyes, “And I don’t get why it’s such a big deal, I survived, didn’t I? Miraculously, I mean, Dr Wren called me the most resilient motherfucker she’d ever met. According to her, most of the doctors working on me were convinced I wasn’t going to make it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Miles giggled a little, “Dr Wren said ‘motherfucker’?”

“Okay, maybe I added that bit,” Francis admitted, smiling sheepishly, “But she did call me the most resilient kid she’d ever treated, so now we just gotta hope I still am if Jason attacks me again, otherwise I might be a goner.”

A pang in Miles’ chest struck him so violently that it almost felt like he’d been shot, “Don’t say that.”

“Oh c’mon, if Hunter of all people thinks Jason’s a tad off his rocker, then I have no doubt the guy wants to try again. Why else would he ask about us?”

“Fran, stop it,” He felt his voice disintegrate in his throat and Francis’ face flicked from cynical to remorseful instantly, “Please, I don’t want to think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” He said with immense sincerity, “It’s easy for me to be pessimistic about it, I forget it’s not the same for you.”

“Why?” Miles breathed out and Francis’ face turned dark.

For a while he thought he wasn’t going to respond, but suddenly Francis stated, “When you spend most of your time either in pain or numb and barely able to stand, you start wishing your heart never restarted.”

There was the second shot in Miles’ chest. For Francis, it was a shockingly honest answer and he really didn’t know how he felt about that.

“I’ve gotten more or less used to it now though,” He made clear after he presumably sensed that Miles was freaking out, taking a very long and deep puff of his cigarette before stamping it out and slumping even more against the wall, “Just in case you thought I was going to be proactive in making that happen,” He chucked a bit and Miles glared at him.

“Don’t joke about that, it’s not funny,” Though he objected it, he felt a smile trying to form.

“I’m not joking, I’m being serious,” Francis continued laughing and Miles rolled his eyes at him, “You overthink everything I say, if I don’t address that, you’re gonna start pre-emptively locking your medicine cabinets or something,” He laughed even harder and Miles covered his face with his palms to hide the fact he was giggling too.

“You’re a dick.”

Francis grinned wide with his teeth.

Chapter Text

Walking into the school, Miles was expecting to see Francis stood at his locker already waiting for him, as he was late, they had gym first lesson and that meant his friend would look for any excuse to miss it. However, as he approached the lockers, there was no sign of him. ‘Maybe he’s late too?’ He thought, as it was more likely than the possibility he actually went to gym class. When he opened his locker to put his bag into it, he heard a yelp coming from Francis’ locker.

“Boo!”

“Ahhhh…” Miles snickered when he heard a thump inside the locker, meaning Francis had probably punched the door in frustration that he didn’t manage to scare him.

“Just get me out of here,” Francis ordered, irritated and a little embarrassed.

As Miles was putting in the combination, he asked, “Square-face?”

“Yep,” He grunted, “The one and only.”

Finally, the door opened and Francis stumbled out – and it was a stumble, Miles had to catch him so he didn’t fall straight to the floor. This was when Miles noticed that something was missing.

“Where’s your cane?” He glanced back into Francis’ locker to see if it was lodged in there, but the only thing he could see was the coat he got for Christmas.

Then, Francis made the most guttural groan ever, the sound bouncing off the walls of the corridor, “That dumb fucking jock and his friends stole it from me before they pushed me in there, as apparently that’s peak comedy for them,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “And I have no clue where they’ve put it. It would be just my luck if they’ve thrown it in the goddamn pool.”

“Jesus,” Miles sighed heavily, “We should tell the councillor.”

“It’s fine, we can try and find it ourselves,” Francis insisted but Miles quirked an eyebrow at him.

“We could, but it would be easier to let the teachers find it for us, especially since a search usually includes walking,” In response, Francis stuck his tongue out at him.

So, they began heading to the councillor’s office, which was on the opposite side of the floor, of course. At least they didn’t have to tackle any stairs. At first, Francis insisted on just trying to walk there normally, as he’d done similar distances without his cane before and for half the journey, he seemed to be doing okay. He had a slight limp, but that was standard for when he wasn’t using an aid. But after a certain point, his condition worsened rapidly; his limp got more severe, he started breathing a lot heavier and he started getting a bit pale in the face. Despite Miles’ protests, Francis carried on without any help until they were about fifteen metres away from the office, where his knee buckled under him, causing him to collapse to the ground. Miles attempted to catch him but it was too sudden and fast for him to manage, so instead he crouched next to where he’d dropped. Francis was holding himself up by the arms, breathing deeply in and out from his mouth and staring at the linoleum beneath him for a good minute or two before he spoke.

“Okay, maybe you were right,” He panted and Miles smiled at him, withholding a snarky comment for the moment.

“Are you alright?” It felt like a silly question, but sometimes it wasn’t because anything hurt necessarily, it was more an issue of functionality – excess strain put on his good leg for example.

“Pains been worse than this before,” Francis stated simply, “But that margin is very small.”

“How long’s it been since you’ve walked that far without your cane?”

The sheepish look that Francis got on his face practically confirmed that he was lying earlier, “Maybe two.”

“Two what?”

“Years.”

“Francis!” His friend jumped when he said that and that could’ve been because he’d used his full name or because he all of a sudden got very loud.

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought I could do it,” he said, exasperated.

Miles sighed and stood back up, holding a hand out to Francis, “There’s no shame in needing a cane, Fran,” His friend took his hand and together they managed to haul him back up, “Look, we don’t have far to go, let’s just get to her office so we can get it back asap.”

For the remaining few metres, Miles acted as Francis’ walking aid, his friend’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and his hand on Francis’ waist. Now, they didn’t know what the councillor was thinking when she saw the pair shuffle into her office, with one of them being held up by the other, but the look on her face was priceless.

“You two are going to be the reason I retire early,” She took her glasses off to rub her eyes, and gestured for them to sit down, “What happened?”

Francis didn’t even try to beat around the bush “This guy on the lacrosse steam stole my cane and shoved me in my locker.”

The councillor’s eyebrows raised so far up her forehead they almost merged with her hairline, “Oh, I see,” But then her face scrunched up, “Has this boy bothered you two before?”

They both nodded and she seemed to lose the will to live.

“Why haven’t either of you said anything? I had no idea you were getting bullied again, how long has this been going on for?”

“Well, square-face has been an asshole since freshman year but he really stepped up his game in sophomore,” Francis smirked when the councillor glared at him.

“Square-face?” She quirked her eyebrow, unimpressed.

“That’s what we call him, we don’t actually know his name,” Miles explained quickly, “He just randomly began messing with us, mostly after Hunter backed off and Jason got arrested.”

“Are you talking about Chris Williams?” They both shrugged. If they didn’t have an inkling before, how were they supposed to recognise his actual name? “He’s the one with uh…” She pursed her lips, unsure of how to describe him (at least nicely).

“The really square face?” Francis was very obviously stifling laughter, “His head is cube-like?”

She exhaled out her nose and nodded, not seeming to want to say it aloud, which was when a guffaw erupted out of Francis.

“You’re telling me that he just started picking on you guys out of the blue? There was no sort of history there?” The concern on her face unsettled Miles slightly – saying it out loud did make it sound much odder than he’d previously thought it was.

“Not really,” Francis was still chuckling a bit, “At least compared to Jason and Hunter. I mean, he’s never liked us, I just think he saw a space open up after the hockey team backed off and took it.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t like you two?” She asked and Francis very dramatically rolled his eyes.

“We’re the gay weirdos of the grade,” He put bluntly, “And now I have walking aids that can be very easily knocked over or taken from me if they want some mindless entertainment.”

Her face then turned a lot more troubled, “So, you’re saying it’s driven by homophobia?”

It took all of Miles’ willpower to not shout ‘duh!’ at her, but Francis didn’t hesitate to say, “Obviously!” which was more or less the same thing, “Why else? He wouldn’t even know my name if it wasn’t for Hunter telling Chris that I had a crush on him.”

“I’ll have a chat with him and I’ll send out an email to…” She typed something in her computer then clicked her mouse a few times, “…Mrs Barley to see if he has your cane with him as she’s teaching him right now.”

“Chat about what?” Francis tensed up slightly and furrowed his eyebrows.

“About him bullying you two. Also, I’m going to suspend him for a day or two for the whole cane thing, because that’s quite serious,” She continued clacking on her keyboard and Francis snarled at her.

“Don’t do that,” He said directly and she turned her head to look back at him, confused, “I mean, you can suspend him all you want, I don’t care, but please don’t have a chat about the bullying thing. He’s not going to suddenly have a change of heart because he’s being told it’s wrong.”

“You never know,” She said in that trademark teacher voice that they always used when they were telling people to be optimistic, “He might.”

“Fat chance,” He spluttered sarcastically, “There’s a higher likelihood that you talking to him about it is only going to make him beat the shit out me for snitching.”

“Francis!” She raised her voice slightly and she tried to look at Miles to probably prompt him to disagree, but Miles just shrugged and stayed silent, “First of all, language and secondly, he won’t do that, you know very well how strict the rules are about violence in this school.”

Then, Francis burst out laughing, “Oh yeah, I do, but I don’t seem to remember them stopping Hunter, Jason and Isaac from cornering me behind the school and doing exactly that. Or did I spend over a month in hospital for no reason?”

The councillor didn’t seem to have a response to that; she only stared at him with a mixture of irritation but also empathy.

Francis didn’t seem satisfied however, so he continued, “Also, Chris already shoves me into lockers, knocks me over and throws shit at me on a regular basis. Maybe it’s not as violent as you’re used to seeing us experience, but it still fucking hurts.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me, Francis! Do you want him to stop bothering you or not?” She threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Of course I want him to stop, but I’m asking you to not get involved because it won’t do shit.”

“Fine, then,” She laid back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, “If you don’t want my help, you can go find your cane yourself.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Miles cut in, “Fran can’t walk very far without it, we can’t just start searching all around the school with no clue where it is.”

The councillor sighed to maintain her patience and then allowed, “Mrs Barley emailed me back to say he told her that he threw it out one of the windows, so I’d check the fields first.”

“But-” He began to dispute, but Francis interrupted him.

“It’s fine Miles, let’s go,” He pushed himself using the armrests on his chair to in order to stand, forcing Miles to get up as well in case he fell, which for a moment he seemed like he was going to.

As they were making their way to the doors leading out to the side of the school building, Miles muttered, “This is ridiculous.”

“At least I don’t have to sit in the same room as her for any longer,” He spat, gripping onto Miles for dear life.

“I don’t think you were being unreasonable at all,” Miles groaned, already getting a little sore and tired from trying to keep Francis upright.

“I wasn’t, but something tells me she wasn’t bullied in high school,” He chuckled as they turned the corner to check the front as it wasn’t down the west-side.

“You doing okay?” Francis’ breathing rate had increased again and they had slowed down as a result of him putting more of his weight onto Miles.

“Nope,” His voice strained a little, but he smiled as to poke fun at himself, “But I’d be worse if you weren’t helping me, so thank you.”

“Just tell me if you need a break or anything,” Miles had a feeling though that he wouldn’t be asking for one anytime soon.

The front of the school yielded no results, so they then moved onto the east-side. This was when it clued into both of them that there was a high possibility his cane had been dropped down the back of the building, where neither of them were particularly excited about the idea of venturing to. Miles hadn’t been to the area behind the school since the week following the incident and as far as he was aware, Francis hadn’t once after he’d been attacked. Who could blame him? The only reason why Miles went back while Francis was still in a coma, was to try and process it and remind himself that it was all real. Of course, Francis didn’t need that reminder – he lived with his own reminder every day.

When they’d fully checked the east-side, Francis finally asked for a breather, but Miles knew it wasn’t just because of the pain.

“I could just quickly look back there if you want, you can stay here,” Miles offered, his stomach churning at the idea of doing it, but he knew it was better than Francis having to revisit that place.

“Just wait here a sec,” Francis put his arm out to prevent Miles from getting up.

They were sat on the grass together, neither of them wanting to be the first to say ‘we really need to bite the bullet’.  Francis needed to rest anyway, he’d gone pale again and Miles didn’t want him making his leg actively any worse. He wondered whether he’d ever told Dr Cranford about the pain or whether he had lied or at least omitted the fact it hadn’t improved in over a year. Knowing Francis, it was probably the latter. Though he found it hard to believe that he could keep it hidden for that long, as he still had bimonthly checkups with him. If that was indeed the case, Miles had to admit it was damn impressive, but also infuriating as it was likely the only thing keeping him from getting any stronger medication.

“Okay,” Francis grunted as he stood up, “Let’s go find my cane.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just get it?” Miles suddenly felt as though he was going to hurl.

“I’m sure,” He looked at him directly in the eyes as he said it, “And if it gets too much for me, I promise I’ll just turn away and walk back here.”

“You promise you’ll let me handle it if that happens?” Miles held out his pinkie finger and Francis interlocked his with it.

After a deep breath from both of them, they turned the corner and braced for what was undoubtedly going to be a rough couple of minutes. The regret hit Miles almost instantly, having to stop and close his eyes to try and blink away the image of Francis bleeding out in the grass in front of him, it only subsiding when he felt his friend squeeze his hand. Compared to him, Francis actually appeared to be doing a lot better, but that began to change when they got closer to the spot where it happened. Like some sort of sadistic joke, the cane was lying in the exact same place he was two years ago. The place where for a while, the grass grew quicker from the blood that had seeped into the soil. Francis crouched down to pick the cane up, but once he’d straightened himself, he remained motionless, staring at the wall like it had dislodged one of its bricks and thrown it at him.

About a minute passed and Francis rotated his head towards Miles, a few tears running down his cheeks, the rest of his body staying still, “I can’t see us coming back here anytime soon so...” He then shuffled his hand around in his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, “Want a smoke? Y’know, for old times’ sake?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

</3

Briefly before lunch began, the pair scuttled inside to avoid being spotted out back by any of the teachers that watched over the area in between classes. Then when the bell rang again, as a way of avoiding more lessons, they made their way back to the councillor’s office to enlighten her on where exactly the cane ended up being. However, not even five seconds after they swung the door open, a familiar voice whispered from behind them.

“I swear, if you two have gotten me into trouble-”

“Mr Williams! Sorry I’m interrupting your next class, but I need to talk to you,” She then guided her eyes towards the other two, “Great timing, how about you sit down as well?”

The smile on her face made Miles want to punch her so badly, but they could not exactly get out of this now. After an awkward pause where the room was fully silent apart from the annoying clicking sound of acrylic nails against an ancient keyboard, the councillor looked at all of them, then at Francis’ cane and nodded slightly.

Then, she corked her head at Chris, “Chris, would you like to tell me why you took Francis’ cane this morning?”

Chris, who was slumped back in his chair with his arms across his chest, hands tucked into his elbows with his thumbs sticking out, shrugged and said, “Dunno.”

Miles held back a groan and an eyeroll. Something told him this was not going to go anywhere.

“Alright,” She let out a small sigh, “Do you know why you felt compelled to throw it out one of the windows?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna just carry it with me all day,” He stated like it was obvious, “So I threw it out back from my science room, Lab 2, so someone could find it,” He then held out his arm to gesture towards said cane in Francis’ hands to add ‘which someone noticeably did’.

It was clear when it had clicked in her head where the cane had landed, as a small gasp escaped her mouth, though she tried to play it off like nothing had happened.

Following a gulp, her voice returned in its sternness, “Chris, I want you to know that this kind of behaviour is unacceptable at this school. Stealing a peer’s walking aid which he requires to…well…walk, is a very serious offense and will not be taken lightly.”

The jock huffed a little overdramatically and claimed, “It was just a bit of harmless fun! Them two were in on it, weren’t you,” He glared at them, trying to be threatening, but Francis just scoffed in his face.

“You really think that intimidation technique is going to work on us of all people? On me? There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done to Miles and I.”

“Even if it did, you cannot fool me, Chris,” The councillor weighed in to try and defuse tension a little bit as now Francis and Chris were staring into each other’s souls, “You’re suspended for the remainder of the week, you can’t lie your way out of that,” Amidst the cacophonous grumbling that Chris was frankly embarrassing himself with, she also raised her voice to say, “We will talk more about this next week, but let me make this clear. If I hear of any more stupid and harmful behaviour like this coming from you, you can say goodbye to your place on the lacrosse team, you hear me?”

Suffice to say, that shut him up pretty quickly.

Trying to get Chris’ parents to pick up the phone was not working, so she sent him to lesson for the meantime while keeping Francis and Miles where they were. Only when Chris was out of the room did her face turn a lot more sympathetic and certainly mortified.

“I want to start off by saying, I am so sorry,” She took off her glasses and looked down at them while she was wiping the lenses, “If I knew it was there, I would have sent someone else to retrieve it.”

Miles didn’t know how he felt about her being aware of how something as simple as the location being so triggering for them, especially since it was just a section of the site they stepped foot in so regularly. The back-side of the building has essentially become a school landmark and a grim one at that. One without a plaque or a marker, but everyone knew the story behind. Occasionally, Miles wondered how the grades below them talked about it – if at all. There must have been some sort of conversation surrounding why there were so many rules about being in that area. During breaks, a few teachers have to stand watch. During lessons, you can only go there if accompanied with a member of staff. Before and after school hours it is off limits. Francis theorised that when teachers were asked why these rules were put in place, they had to say it was due to the lack of windows on the ground floor. But, gossip spreads like wildfire and he was confident that most students knew the real reason. Maybe it had its own set of rumours like the storage closet.

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience,” Francis held no reservations with showing his bitterness, “You really should have seen where it had landed, talk about dead on.”

Miles giggled a little at the joke; the councillor did not.

“Are you two okay at least?” She asked, “I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.”

While Francis was cooking up some sort of sarcastic response, Miles nodded quietly. Although he hadn’t said a word, that felt like a lie. He wasn’t okay, but she didn’t need to know that he was planning on spending his evening sobbing on the phone to Illi and trying to calm his nerves in hope of avoiding what was unquestionably going to be a rough nightmare. All that mattered in that moment was that this meeting was keeping him distracted enough to keep the scene of finding Francis’ dead body out of his head.

“Oh, I’m just swell,” Francis mumbled and then said a lot louder, “I cannot describe to you how much pain that this whole situation has put my leg in now, not including how it felt before we found my cane. The detail about it falling there was just a cherry on top of this sadistic fucking cake.”

Miles could always tell when the councillor was at a loss, as she would stop chastising their potty mouths. Closing her eyes and sighing before turning to type something into the computer, she gave in, “I can give both of you the rest of the day off, on the condition you drive him home, Miles,” She pointed at him to emphasise her point, “I don’t want any accidents happening because of Francis’ leg giving in or something. I’m only allowing this as I also don’t want him throwing up from the pain because I know he’s prone to do that,” She scribbled on a slip to say they could leave and held it out to them.

“What? Does my number of times leaving lesson to see the school nurse make it obvious?” Francis grinned a little at himself and at the fact they’d been excused. Miles was relieved mostly.

“Francis,” Her eyes half-closed and her mouth pinched into a thin line.

“Yes?”

“Just take this and get out of my office.”

In a whispery voice, Francis said, “Okay,” snatching the slip out of her hand and getting up to leave, Miles following.

They didn’t talk much on the drive back to Miles’, the high of being able to leave early wearing off on Francis and the agony that this shitty sequence of events had caused catching back up to him. He was restless, breathing heavily for most of the journey, the only words coming out of him being curses or apologies that Miles had no idea what were for. Once they had reached Miles’ bedroom, before casting it aside to crash onto the bed, Francis stared down at his cane, contemplatively fiddling with the handle and scratching it with his thumb-nail, chipping off some of his black nail polish. His glare intensified after a few seconds, snarling slightly before chucking it onto the carpet, muttering, “Fucking liability,” and shambling next to Miles on the sheets.

“You alright?” He asked, only realising it was sort of a stupid question after he said it.

Francis didn’t respond for a while, only turning away slightly, bending his left knee and using his hands to move his right in a similar fashion. Then, following a few moments of stillness, he said, “I miss playing dodgeball.”

“What?” Admittedly, this comment threw him off significantly – Francis hated gym before and after he stopped being able to take part. If Miles had the choice to ditch it forever, he absolutely would.

“Crazy right?” He giggled, but it was clear he was upset, “I miss riding my bike everywhere, I miss the way people used to look at me like I was the dirt on the bottom of their shoe. Now most people look at me like they need to tread lightly around me in case…whatever it is they think is going to happen, happens!” He pulled his hands down his face, “All these things I used to find annoying, I now want back more than anything. Isn’t that fucking pathetic?”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic,” Miles said automatically, before he’d even come up with a reason why. Eventually, he surmised, “You didn’t know you’d lose those so suddenly and you miss the time when they were the things that frustrated you the most.”

“Y’know I hate gym now more than I did when I actually had to do it properly?” He shifted his body so that he was facing Miles now on his side, “The fact I have to sit there and watch everyone play, not because I chose not to but because I can’t, makes me feel weak as hell. I would prefer for them to just make me take extra Math or Science classes instead, ‘cause I am failing those so badly.”

“You’re not weak just because you can’t play dodgeball,” Miles sighed, trying to look reassuring without accidentally being condescending, “The fact you survived those injuries in the first-place show that you’re not.”

“Don’t lie to me Miles, I can’t do shit anymore!” The pure confidence in hopelessness that Francis’ voice displayed drove a spear through Miles’ heart, “Walking is one of the most basic human motor skills, and I can’t even do that without help from some stupid cane or crutch. Sometimes not even with those! What’s the fucking point of trying to get anywhere in life if I’m constantly at risk of becoming incapacitated because my leg is as fragile as a goddamn balloon.”

“Stop letting today get to you, Fran. You’re only saying these things because you’re tired and in pain,” Miles tried to hide the fact he was five seconds away from bursting into tears, “Get some rest, it’s not just your leg that needs it.”

Francis scowled, “I don’t need rest; I need a factory reset.”

“Fran, please,” Miles implored, feeling the tears form in his eyes but managing to hold them back.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, Francis finally gave in, though he didn’t look happy about it at all. While his friend napped, Miles made his way downstairs and into his backyard, where he flipped through the contacts on his phone and pressed ‘call’. It didn’t ring for very long.

“Hey Milli, what’s up?”

“I-” He paused to take a moment to just breathe, “Nothing much, just wanted to catch up.”

The call went quiet for too long for it to be normal, but before Miles could ask if everything was okay, Illi said, “You don’t sound so sure.”

“What?” He spluttered, possibly a bit too quickly, “Can’t I just be interested in what’s going on in your life?”

“You can be, I’m just not certain you are,” Her voice droned in a way that showed she was concerned, “But if you want to know, Ray’s visiting me currently because his roommates are annoying him.”

“Is he with you right now?”

A smaller voice managed to get through, saying, “Yes I am!” followed by Illi clarifying, “Yes he is.”

“How are you, Ray?” Miles jumped at a chance to stop Illi from asking him anything he didn’t want to answer.

“I’m great now that I’ve finally gotten some sleep!” Tiny-voice Ray shouted from wherever he was in Illi’s room.

“His roommates throw a lot of parties,” Illi explained.

“I see.”

“Are you with Francis?” She asked.

“Nah, he’s napping, I’m in the garden currently,” A part of Miles was begrudged that he’d made Francis sleep, as there was no better way to avoid talking about something than sending him and Illi on a never-ending conversation about nothing important.

“You two are home early,” This observation made Miles tense up slightly.

“Yeah, Fran was in a lot of pain, so the councillor sent us home so he wouldn’t vomit and so I could drive him,” Though it wasn’t a lie, his heart began racing like it was. So, to avoid seeming like he was withholding information, he added, “Square-face shoved him in his locker before I got to school and stole his cane.”

“Jesus!” Illi shrilled, “It’s nice to know kids are still evil.”

“As ever,” Sighing, he glanced up at his bedroom window, “But, he got suspended, so s’not all bad.”

“You told the councillor?” She gasped.

“Well, we weren’t going to search the whole school grounds ourselves for it, were we?” He snapped back sardonically.

“I guess not,” There was a long pause and Miles almost hung up, but just before he said ‘bye’, she commented, “So what else happened today?”

Miles’ stomach dropped, “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” He acted dumb, but he knew his sister could see right through him.

“You know what I mean,” Illi grunted, “Milli, you can’t fool me, I can tell when something’s up.”

Squinting his eyes, trying not to rudely end the call, he forced, “Okay, fine. The councillor got pissed at Fran’s attitude, so she made us look for the cane after telling us square-face had thrown it out a window and it just so happened that it had landed in the spot behind the school.”

The silence that followed said everything that Miles thought it would. It was only broken by Ray in the background saying, “Oh my god.” Illi stayed quiet.

“You happy now?” Miles got a little flustered, pressure building up in his face.

“Did square-face do it on purpose?” Illi’s voice was like a ghost, hollow but purposeful.

“God knows,” Miles exhaled. He didn’t know if Chris knew that was where it happened, or whether he’d even registered when he threw it that he was throwing it out of a back-window until after he’d done it, “But I don’t really care either way. There’s not enough sloshing around in that head of his for me to be worried.”

“Are you okay?”

“Both Fran and I are-” Miles started before being cut off by Illi.

“I didn’t ask about Francis; I can talk to him myself. Are you okay?”

The period it took for Miles to respond was not him trying to figure out how to answer this, but more for him to decide whether to hang up on her or not.

“No,” He responded, the word slipping out as gracefully as rock-slide, “But I will be.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Her tone turned bleaker but warmer at the same time, “Unless you want to talk more about it?”

“That’s okay,” Miles sat down, leaning against the back-fence of the garden, “Thank you, Illi.”

“Anytime.”

When the call ended, Miles remained in place for what felt like years. Staring. Thinking. Pulling at a thread on his sleeve until it snapped. Then he closed his eyes. He was back behind the school. Fran was on the ground. Dead. He opened his eyes. He was alone in the garden. Miles felt the tears drip and burn down his cheeks before he registered that he was crying. It felt anticlimactic. All day, he believed it was going to end in guttural sobs that ripped through his throat and got out every single emotion that he’d kept stored away. But these tears came with no fanfare, no sharp noises that would slice through the solitary sounds of the wind. They just fell.

He was so tired.

The boy had no idea how long he’d sat there, gazing up at the sky, when he heard movement inside the house. Assuming it was just his parents, he didn’t avert his eyes until the door to the garden clicked open. Francis, who looked slightly ruffled and was putting enough weight on his crutch that Miles wondered how it was still in one piece, was stood opposite Miles with an illegible expression. Instinctively, Miles wiped at the tears that were continuing to run down his face and was about to stand up, but Francis put out his hand to stop him. His friend then sat down next to him, leaning his head on Miles’ shoulder.

“Did you manage to get any sleep?” Miles asked, trying extremely hard to hide the fact that he was screaming inside in two inverse ways.

“No,” He put simply, not leaving room to explain further.

“Oh.”

“Do you think you would’ve been able to do it?” Francis turned his head so that he was in prime position to take a bite out of Miles’ chin.

“Do what?”

“Gotten the cane without me from behind the school.”

The answer was screeching at him in his brain, but he was hesitant to admit it. Why though? There was no reason to be embarrassed about it; no one, especially not Francis would judge him for it. But, he could feel the frog in his throat and it wasn’t budging without force.

“I don’t know,” He fibbed.

Francis exhaled, “Miles, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying. Be honest with me.”

After taking a deep breath, he finally shoved the word out of his mouth, “No.”

It was hollow and a tad pathetic and Miles felt like he was going to cry properly now, but it didn’t travel out of his head.

“I couldn’t have done it either,” Francis turned his head back to facing forwards and took Miles’ hand, “But we did it together.”

Following a few seconds of silence, Miles grinned, “Hell yeah, we did.”

</3

The new day started ludicrously early, when the two juniors hurtled out of unconsciousness at the same time, Miles shooting upwards and Francis, a lot less dramatically, opening his eyes. Francis checked his leg and Miles checked his friend’s pulse on reflex, which was when they both paused, looked at each other and started giggling.

“Wow,” was all Miles could utter as Francis swatted away his hand.

“Double whammy,” Francis chuckled and Miles pushed at him.

“Coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

Focusing on the coffee slowly dripping into the pot, Miles breathed heavily and tried to calm his nerves. Though the revelation that they both woke up from their respective nightmares at the same time was a quick way to ground him, he was still reeling from experiencing it in the first place. He barely got them anymore, so on the occasions where he did, it always shook him up to a great extent. Francis didn’t appear nearly as rattled, but then again, he never did.

“Are you okay? You need anything?” Miles was pulled out of his disassociated state when the pot was about half-full. He turned around to see that his friend was a lot closer to him than he thought and jumped, falling backwards into the kitchen counter, almost elbowing the coffee machine. Francis raised his eyebrow at him, “Well I think you’ve just answered one of my questions.”

“Sorry,” Miles put his weight back on his feet and lifted his glasses to rub at his eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine, thank you.”

He continued staring at the dripping coffee when Francis went to sit down, but he got less lost in it. It was frustrating, he was now too present in the moment. He thought he could feel every atom in his body and floating around him. The floor was making too much contact with his feet; his eyes were taking up too much space in his skull. He let out a shiver. Once the coffee was done, he poured two mugs and began heading to the living room to sit with his friend. Only then did he realise the vigour he was shaking with, as the boiling hot liquid splashed from the mugs onto his hands several times and it was a miracle he didn’t drop them. Unfortunately, Francis noticed this quite outwardly, prompting him to ask the exact thing Miles didn’t want him to.

“It wasn’t standard protocol, wasn’t it?”

Miles shook his head, “It was nothing crazy,” He grimaced and he felt pressure build up behind his eyes.

“What happened?”

“You died.”

“I always die in your dreams,” He chuckled, the sound whirling around in Miles’ head like music, “C’mon, be more specific.”

Miles took a deep breath, “It was normal until…” He furrowed his eyebrows as he choked on his words, “Until Ray did CPR on you. You-…you just-…. didn’t come back,” He sniffled and Francis’ cheery demeanour washed away, “I was sat there for hours, or what felt like hours I guess. I was just holding you. The nightmare only ended when someone…I think a paramedic or something, tore you away from me.”

Grimacing, Francis put his mug down and shuffled closer to Miles on the couch, “Do you ever think about what would’ve been different, if I-” He hesitated, “If I didn’t make it?”

“I try not to,” He answered honestly, “Anyways, it’s not important. You lived, that’s all I care about,” He hated how his voice quivered on almost every syllable, “Do you?”

Francis sighed, “All the time.”

Then, a strange look flashed across his face. It wasn’t the type of solemnity that Miles would’ve expected, it was more a look of regret. Regret for what though? It could’ve been for the part he played in him getting attacked in the first place, but Miles could tell it was more than that. He left a note in his mind to ask about this at a better moment.

“What do you think would’ve happened?” Miles asked, more out of place of morbid curiosity than anything. Even though he didn’t want to dwell on it too much, didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in what Francis’ take was on it for him to think about it ‘all the time’.

“It’s funny I-” He made a crooked smile, “I remember the first time I thought about it, while I was in hospital when everything had sunk in fully. It felt…I don’t know, familiar? Like I’d thought about it before almost. But I don’t know if I can say, it was a little self-centred looking back on it.”

“Was?” Miles straightened his torso in intrigue, “Has your opinion changed on it?”

“A tad; I mean, my perspective has changed with hindsight on how me not dying affected you, Illi and Ray. But, you’re the expert I guess, I can only make assumptions,” He shrugged his shoulders and messed with his fingers as if this was the most casual conversation ever.

“I don’t think a prediction of how your death would have affected people could be a ‘self-centred interpretation’. It’s kind of self-centred by nature.”

“You just want me to tell you what I used to think.”

“No, I want you to tell me what you used to think and what you think now.”

Francis sighed, but more in a way that showed he was amused, “My main worries back then for you were that you would’ve been alone for the rest of high school,” After Miles pulled a dramatized face of offense, he was quick to make clear, “Not in a ‘you couldn’t make new friends’ kind of way, I just thought you wouldn’t try.”

“I can’t even be insulted by that, I probably wouldn’t have,” Miles admitted and Francis flashed that gorgeous smile again, “How has that changed now then?”

“Well, I’ve been told in confidence by both Ray and Illi that they wouldn’t have gone to college if didn’t make it, sort of because of grief, but mainly because of you. They would never have left you here if that had happened, so you wouldn’t have been alone,” Francis then began talking like he was treading lightly on the subject, “And I don’t think you would’ve gone the rest of high school without making any new friends. It probably would have taken a while, but not three years.”

“So basically, you now think more positively on my antisocial qualities than you used to, but I think your first assumption was correct,” Miles knew it sounded sad as hell, but there was a reason that his friends at school had never properly exceeded one since Illi and Ray left and that was without considering that Illi’s his sister and Ray’s his sister’s boyfriend.

 “Dude, you can’t be that antisocial if you managed to become friends with me,” Francis whacked Miles’ leg with his crutch that, prior to this, was leaning peacefully against the sofa, “Or am I just that irresistible?” He flashed a cheeky grin, which Miles responded by sticking his tongue out and trying to ignore the fact they were both blushing, just for his own sanity.

“I promised Illi I’d at least try and talk to someone and you were the only person who stood out to me.”

“Aw,” He curled his lip and did puppy eyes to mock him, “And you ended up with the guy who stands out a bit too much.”

Miles kicked at him, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, asshole.”

The hours before they had to start thinking about school went too fast and soon they were rushing to get dressed last-minute as they’d missed enough classes recently that it was getting to the point where they knew the attendance lady was going to start hunting them for sport. However, Miles wasn’t sure whether his friend should even be going in, as he knew that look on Francis’ face too well and it was practically screaming ‘I am in agony’ by the time they were finished getting ready. When he brought it up though, Francis just rolled his eyes and got in the car.

Upon witnessing the barrage of Chris’ cronies surrounding their lockers, Miles considered dipping entirely and driving back home, but Francis cared more about knowing what they wanted than the risk of his face being caved in.

“They obviously don’t want anything good, Fran,” Miles muttered to him as they approached the scene, “You just got their ringleader suspended for something they all took part in.”

“Barely; Chris does all the dirty work, they just stand and laugh,” He muttered back before raising his voice to speak to the jocks, “What do you guys want?”

All of them stopped chatting and turned their heads to face them, malicious smirks making Miles even more tempted to drag Francis and himself away as quickly as possible. The taller one, who they’d guessed was essentially Chris’ right hand man, then grabbed Francis’ collar, and whipped him around to slam him into his locker whilst one of the others locked his arm around Miles to stop him intervening.

“You thought telling was a good move, huh?” The guy, who was pinning Francis to the steel door, spat, “You thought Chris would get the payback you’ve dreamed of and we’d finally leave you alone, didn’t you?”

“I only went to the councillor to get my cane back, I didn’t want any trouble,” Francis panted, grabbing at the crony’s hand to at least alleviate some of the pressure from his chest.

“Well, you gave him a hell of a lot of trouble with his folks and you sure ain’t gonna snitch on us too.”

“I wasn’t going to before, but maybe I will now that you’ve decided to shove me against my locker at eight in the goddamn morning,” Francis gritted his teeth, but that only gave an opening for the jock to ram his fist into his jaw.

“You won’t do shit!” He growled back, “Y’know why? Word has spread that your old friend has been released from juvey and at any moment, Chris could tell him where you work. The councillor can’t protect you there, can she? Heck, for all I know he’s sent the message already, but in case he hasn’t, I have a bit of advice. Don’t piss us off.”

Then just like that, the jocks left. As if it meant nothing. As if they hadn’t told the boy who they’d just thrown around, that they would assist his attempted murderer in finding him again. Francis’ mouth was bleeding. He bolted to the nearest restroom, Miles following closely behind and the shorter one bent over the sink to spit it out, the viscous, red liquid forming grotesque flowers on the porcelain. None of them had any words to say. The only noise in the room was Francis heaving, remaining propped up by his hands against the sink while Miles just stood there, staring at the back of his head, trying to magic his vision to stop pulsating between blurry and blurrier. For a second, Miles thought Francis was about to chuck up as well, but his breathing eventually made its way back to semi-normal and he turned around to face his friend.

“We should head to lesson.”

“What?” Miles barked out from shock.

“I need to focus on something else for a while,” He explained straightforwardly, his head screwed on impressively tight given the situation.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t like Miles was going to say no – if Francis needed a distraction, then so be it. Although, he himself couldn’t think of anything worse than going to class. The entourage of spit-balls, pieces of gum and insults written on crumpled paper missiles in their future would only add ammunition to the ticking time-bomb that was Miles’ brain. How on Earth was he supposed to do anything else now that he’d found out Chris was in cahoots with Jason Daniels?

They were lucky enough to score seats next to each other in English, but it was clear from the start that Miles was in for a rough few hours – at least before lunch. First of all, they had begun studying Macbeth, which would have been fine if this lesson hadn’t been the one where they were covering the scene where he hallucinates a bloody dagger in front of him. The teacher even got out the prehistoric projector so they could watch the scene in full to ‘properly understand it’ or whatever. Miles thought back to something Francis said when they were doing Romeo and Juliet, ‘why are Shakespeare plays always so stab-y?’ to which he responded ‘well, it’s not like they had guns back then, did they?’ and their teacher overheard them and corrected them as apparently they did, they just weren’t very good. Nonetheless, this was when Miles realised that maybe that was why Francis got them to skip English until they’d finished working on that play. Since starting Macbeth, Francis had vaguely mentioned missing those lessons, but it seemed the chaos of the morning had caused this detail to slip his mind.

Miles cast a glance at his friend when they showed the dagger on screen, largely because he didn’t want to see it himself, but also to check on Francis to make sure he was okay. Like he’d expected, Francis wasn’t paying attention to this bit, just staring down at his hands on the table, playing with his rings. Miles looked at his paper, nothing written on it and wouldn’t move his eyes after that. The darkness of the room consumed his senses and all of a sudden, the dialogue became muffled and his head became louder. Like a film of his own, the last hour of his life replayed in his mind, cut through with flashes of the last two years as if these memories were going to be distorted or at worst, repeated. He tried to break free of this hurricane of reflection but it kept him pinned down, forced to stew in the past for what felt like days.

A hand touched his, finally pulling him out of this state, “Hey, class is over now, did you not hear the bell?” Francis was stood over him, looking down with beautiful but concerned eyes.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t,” Miles scrambled to get up and collect his things before Miles could ask him anything else and they headed to biology without a word spoken between them.

The next few lessons weren’t quite as intense, but his jitteriness made Francis have to take evasive action to avoid getting the tip of his nose sliced off and from that point onwards, his scalpel was confiscated off of him and Francis had to take control of the fish head dissection. This would have been fine, if the reason his friend wasn’t taking part in the first place wasn’t the fact that he felt bad for the fish and thus spent the rest of the practical frowning down at it as he tried to follow the teacher’s instructions. Though, he didn’t spew out the comments he usually did during dissections, which Miles wasn’t going to complain about, but it made him wonder whether it was because he was trying not to cry.

By the time lunch rolled around, Miles had settled down a little, but not enough to stop him from jumping on the subject as soon as he got the chance. Francis was mid-bite into his sandwich when Miles asked, “So what are we going to do?”

Chewing his meal cartoonishly slowly to prove a point, Francis glared at him. Once he’d swallowed, he finally said, “You are going to calm the fuck down and we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Miles nodded, “Yessir,” and saluted to mock him, “But it is more your decision I think.”

“Well, you’re not gonna like this, but I’m not quitting my job,” He shoved the sandwich back into his mouth.

“I’m not expecting you to.”

“No, but you want me to,” He spoke with his mouth full, though he covered it with his hand, “I understand why, but I can’t just quit, you know that.”

“But what if Chris has already told Jason where you work? What if you go and he’s just waiting there for you?”

“But what if he hasn’t? Then I would be unemployed for no reason and the likelihood I’d manage to get another job before I starve is slim to say the least. It’s just too risky!”

“Isn’t gambling your life on that chance even riskier? Fran, you know we’d help out if you couldn’t pay for food, but we can’t help you if you’re dead.”

A heavy sigh exited Francis’ lungs and he broke eye contact, which meant he didn’t know how to argue with that. He felt sort of like an asshole, but he knew he was right. Neither of them could afford to take that chance, not again. So, they were at an impasse. Francis wouldn’t quit his job, but he also couldn’t reasonably go to work when there was a chance his attempted murderer could walk through the door, his coworkers none the wiser and finish what he started.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Francis came up with a compromise, “You’re right, I can’t risk it for now,” He put his hand on Miles’ and Miles had to rub his eyes to hide the fact he was blushing, “I’ll take the next few weeks off work, come up with excuses, see how long I can push it. I’ll look for new jobs, see if anywhere will take me, but if not I’ll have to go back eventually.”

“If that’s the most we can do, then it’s good enough for now,” Miles reluctantly agreed – at least it gave things time to potentially change, “Do you think we should tell someone? Not the councillor, I fear that would make things worse, but what about Mr Schechter? He’s better at listening to us and maybe he can help us figure things out.”

Francis appeared to mull it over for a few seconds before saying, “I guess there’s no harm in it, if it would make you feel better. He’s got connections too.”

They had music last, so they decided to corner him after school was over. Though he wouldn’t say this to Francis, part of him wanting to mention it to Mr Schechter was so that at least one adult with a higher level of maturity than two juniors knew about their situation in case something happened. In a worst-case-scenario where both of them disappeared or suddenly died, at least he’d have grounds to confirm who was responsible. Morbid, sure, but not superfluous.

When they didn’t speed out of the room as rapid as lightning once the bell rang, their teacher already sussed that something was up. As soon as it was only them three left in the room, he asked, squinting his eye slightly, “You two alright?”

Failing to keep his composure, Francis let out an intense ‘HA!’, which only unsettled Mr Schechter more.

To not keep him waiting for longer than necessary, Miles began, “We have a problem.”

“If this has to do with Jason, the best advice I can give you is to contact the police,” He said, deadpan and his tired face didn’t change when Francis made a very loud ‘pfft!’ sound.

“We can’t get the cops on him because he hasn’t technically done anything yet,” This wasn’t exactly true, due to everything with Hunter meeting up with him, but it still felt a bit overkill.

“Yet?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“We have reason to believe he still wants Fran dead and someone who hates us almost just as much has threatened to tell Jason where Fran works.” Saying it aloud somehow made it scarier than it already was.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” He leant against his desk and rubbed his temple, “Let me guess, you can’t just quit your job because that would be too easy?”

“Nope,” Francis chimed in smirking a little at the insanity, “Trust me, I would if I could. I know it’s hard to believe but I’m not that stupid.”

“Don’t mention it to anyone though, especially not the councillor,” Miles added swiftly, “If we poke the bear any more than we have, it’ll just increase the chance they’ll babble.”

“Why are you telling me if you don’t want other people to know?”

Francis shrugged, “Adult wisdom, I guess? To see if you are aware of any job listings I could try to apply to, because I just need a job, it doesn’t matter what.”

“May I ask why you need a job?” He crossed his arms over his chest inquiringly.

“I don’t live with my folks anymore, so I have to buy my own food, pay bills and fuel my car; it’s a long story,” He stated matter-of-factly. To be fair, Miles was fully expecting him to just say, ‘No you may not,’ and leave it there, but he guessed that would just raise suspicion even more.

“When did this happen?” Mr Schechter said this like it was common knowledge but he’d just been kept out of the loop, which made both of the juniors giggle.

“A few months ago, but it’s no big deal,” Miles almost accidentally scoffed at this, but he stopped himself before he could give it away that it was very much a big deal.

“Well, I’m not sure about job listings, but I can ask around. In the meantime, just be careful. Even more than I’m assuming you already are,” He then pointed at Francis, “Don’t go to work unless you absolutely have to. You two are going to make it big someday, the world can’t lose that, okay?”

</3

The afternoon Francis had to go back to work came around faster than either of them would have liked. He’d managed to spin lies and excuses for about three weeks before his boss threatened to fire him if he missed any more shifts and his hunt for other jobs had come up dry. So inevitably, he had to return. Miles insisted he drive him there, but Francis refused to let him stake out in the store to keep watch. The entire drive home was more of a battle of stopping himself from turning right back around.

It was all going to be fine. They were just being paranoid. Chris was probably just frightening them.

A couple of hours in, Miles' nerves started to ease a bit. At least to the point where he wasn’t glancing at his phone every couple seconds to make sure he hadn’t missed an urgent call or text. He didn’t want to give away how freaked out he was to his parents, so he barricaded himself in his room until it was time to pick Francis up – so really it looked like a normal weekend to them. The nausea never fully left, but he could tune it out more the longer he had it. Everything was fine.

His phone rang.

Oh god, everything was not fine. Francis was in trouble. Jason had found him and he was now dying if he wasn’t already dead. Shit, Jason was calling him to taunt him about killing his boyf- best friend! Francis never should have gone back to work; this could’ve been avoided if he’d just let himself get sacked-

It was a spam call.

Okay, maybe he was not relaxed at all. This mini-scare left him unable to do anything that required any sort of concentration, so practising bass was a no-go and doing his homework was never going to happen anyway. He briefly considered scouring the medicine cabinet for Xanax, but decided against it when he realised that they almost definitely did not have it and if they did, his parents were 100% the types to monitor it closely. In the end, he settled with just laying in the foetal position to stop himself from jumping out of the window or impulsively calling Francis in the middle of his shift just to make sure he was alive. He remained like this for what must’ve been at least another hour.

His phone rang again.

“Can these scam people get off my ass, they are causing me a lot of stress right now,” He muttered to himself when he picked up his cell and he was close to pressing the red button when he read Francis’ name on the screen.

About five thousand arrows shot through his chest at once.

“Fran?” His voice shook.

“He’s here.”

All the air was stolen out of his lungs.

“I need you to come pick me up.”

“Of course,” he snapped out of his frozen state and rushed to grab his keys, “Has he spoken to you?”

“Yeah…he saw me before I saw him and came up to me. I think…Hunter was right,” The fact that he was audibly hyperventilating was enough to convince Miles to speed – he didn’t care if he got a ticket at this point.

“Don’t panic, I’m on my way,” He reassured him as he ran down the stairs.

“Meet me at the door out-back, I’m hiding in the staff room right now,” He laughed slightly, “Malcom told me Jason’s been coming every weekend since my last shift and just hanging around here, but no one knew who he was.”

“Jesus.”

“Call me when you get here.”

All the anxiety had morphed into adrenaline and Miles had gone into tunnel-vision. Nothing else mattered apart from getting Francis out of there. Not the traffic laws, not his confused parents, not his own safety. The drive to the Blockbuster wasn’t long to begin with, but Miles managed to easily halve it and his parking was nowhere near a line, but he didn’t have time to straighten up. His heart was beating so hard out of his chest, it felt like it was bruising his ribs and he sped to the back of the building at a pace that no Gym teacher could ever force out of him. Once he reached the staff-door, Miles pulled out his phone and selected Francis’ name to call him.

The phone rang.

“Picking up your boyfriend?” A voice taunted from behind him.

Miles turned around and his cell dropped to the floor.

“Awe, how cute,” Jason sneered.

Chapter Text

Without any time to process what was going on around him, two hands were suddenly wrapped around Miles’ neck and were crashing him into the wall of the building. Looking at him directly, a crooked grin on Jason’s face tore through him as he tightened his grip slowly, his eyes glistening as Miles began to choke and cough on the little remaining air in his throat. Miles’ phone stopped ringing, but as soon as Francis’ voice cut through the speaker, Jason pounded the device with his shoe several times before kicking the smashed parts aside to continue putting his full effort into closing Miles’ airways.

“Wow, two in one day,” Jason snickered, sticking his tongue out to the side, “It’s a shame you won’t be able to be with Francis when he dies for good. I’m sure he would have liked that.”

Attempting to spit out the words ‘fuck you’, all that came out of Miles’ mouth was a garble of wheezing groans. This was when Miles’ vision began to blur and go splotchy. He knew what suffocation felt like, but this was far worse than an asthma attack. His neck burned as his blood vessels sealed up and his oesophagus squeezed close. Oh god, he was going to die. As his face went numb, he thought of Francis and prayed for him to be alright.

He felt himself drop to the ground shortly after the door next to him swung open.

The next thing Miles knew, he was spluttering awake, hacking up the phlegm that had built up in his throat. Or was it blood? Maybe both. He was laying on the cold concrete and he breathed desperately heavy despite the agony it put him in. Reaching for his inhaler, which he hoped would help at least somewhat, he flicked his eyes upwards to see Francis hysterically beating the shit out of Jason with his cane, but the coughing must’ve prompted his friend to look at him, as Francis turned his head and Jason took this as an opportunity to give him a right-hook to the jaw, not knocking him over, but it unsteadied him enough for Jason to snatch his cane away from him, kick him in the stomach, propelling him against the wall. Then, he grabbed him by the shirt and sent Francis crashing onto the ground. Propping his foot onto Francis’ bad leg, Jason snapped the cane on his knee, threw the pieces aside and stomped on his thigh repeatedly.

Francis shrieked in pain and Miles impulsively yelled, “Stop!” before thinking about what the consequences of that may be. Jason did indeed, stop, but he then started trudging towards Miles and raising his fist. Bracing for impact, Miles put his arm out to shield his face (like that was going to do anything) but knuckles never met skin. Instead, Jason collapsed to the ground as Francis grabbed onto his ankle, tripping him over, his head making harsh contact with the cement.

After a couple seconds of deep breaths and double checking that Jason was out cold, they rushed towards each other – well, as much as they could while crawling – grasping at each other’s bodies in a shaky embrace. Francis was hugging Miles so tight that his ribs were being crushed but he didn’t care. Once he began wheezing even more severely however, Francis pulled away slightly, pressing his forehead against Miles’ and curling his fingers into his hair as he held onto his head.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Francis gasped and only then did Miles realise his friend was crying, “I didn’t have time to check you were alive after I got Jason off you.”

“We should get inside before he wakes up,” Miles rasped urgently when he remembered that could happen at any moment, “How’s your leg? Can you walk?”

“It’s completely numb now, I can’t move it,” He made a small, resigned chuckle, “I also can’t feel the pain, but something tells me I really will at some point.”

“That’s fine,” Miles then hauled himself to stand and lifted Francis up, impressing himself slightly.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes,” Francis giggled, “Or is it adrenaline?”

“Probably adrenaline, but let’s pretend I’m ripped for now.”

“It’s all that bass playing you do,” He smiled, “Those things are heavy.”

Practically at the same time as the juniors made it into the staff room, Malcolm came stumbling in from the other entrance and as soon as he saw them, his jaw dropped.

“Sweet Jesus,” He stood there with his phone in his hand as Miles placed Francis on the sofa and shook himself, “Uh, okay, I’ve called the cops, they should be here any moment. Where’s Jason?”

“Outside unconscious,” Miles responded as casually as he could.

“Ugh, are we gonna have to be interviewed?” Francis groaned, “I can’t be asked right now, I want to go home.”

“If you want him locked back up, then I suggest you suck it up,” Malcom raising his eyebrows and leant against the wall, “Well, the good news is, Mandi can’t be mad at you for skipping work anymore, I’d say fearing for your life is a pretty solid excuse and you have proof now.”

“She better not be mad, her making me turn up almost killed Miles and I probably won’t be able to walk for a few days,” For a moment, Miles had forgotten that if Francis had come out any later, he would certainly be in much worse condition. Everything had happened too quickly for him to process it yet, “Speaking of which, where is she?”

“Hiding at checkout,” Malcolm smirked, “I told her what happened, I think she’s too ashamed to face you.”

Miles scoffed, “I’d fucking hope so,” slumping down to sit on the floor next to the couch, holding his friend’s hand, “I ran about five red lights to get here, only for my phone to get smashed and for me to almost get choked to death by the guy we were both trying to escape from.”

The muffled sound of sirens cut off their conversation and Malcolm went out-front to guide the cops to the staff room. Half of them stayed to talk to them and the other half went searching for Jason, because as soon as they saw the state Francis and Miles were in, they knew they had grounds for an arrest.

All of the interview questions were pretty straightforward, but Francis had to lie about why he was so concerned about keeping his job, just to avoid further complications. It was all fairly standard practice. However, midway through the interrogation, the other half of the group came back inside to say that Jason had gone. He’d legged it. A pit formed in Miles’ stomach again and by the look on Francis’ face, he could tell they were on the same page. The further advice given by the police was all just common sense, Miles thought and once they’d left, they wasted no time sticking around.

As soon as they got in the car, Francis sighed, “I think we have to lay-low for a while.”

Miles nodded, “Do you want to go back to mine or yours?”

“Will you stay with me until Jason gets caught?”

“I was kind of thinking of that anyway,” Miles admitted, “Let’s stop at mine so I can pack some stuff, but your apartment is probably safer.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It wasn’t until Miles stepped food back into his house, that he realised his parents had no idea what was going on. Though, from briefly glancing at himself in the mirror, he saw that the bruises on his neck were starting to aggressively take form, so getting in and out became a stealth mission. Successfully dodging that situation, Miles hopped back into the car, took his inhaler again and sped off. Soon, it became clear that the numbness in Francis’ thigh leg was gradually transforming into the pain he had prophesised and he went very quiet. But since talking felt like a handful of needles were being dragged and scraped against his throat, he was okay with this.

Eventually, they were both sat on Francis’ bed, which still didn’t have a top-sheet or a duvet, but now had two pillows. Stewing in silence, not sure what to do. The blinds were down, only small slits of sunlight seeping through to light up the room. Miles rubbed at his neck, trying to ignore how much it hurt. Francis held his leg, pressing his thumbs into different spots every couple seconds for about ten minutes before moving on to just firmly gripping onto it with his whole hands. Around the same time, his breathing sharpened and heat began radiating off him more powerfully than before. What Miles wasn’t expecting though, was how his own pain spiked, to the point where he was struggling to breathe without feeling like he was going to vomit.

So, they stewed for even longer. Not knowing how to help each other or even themselves for that matter. Miles glanced at his friend, who was now clutching his thigh so tightly that he couldn’t believe Francis was doing himself any favours, so he ripped his hand off and replaced it with his own, keeping his touch light but not redundant. Francis released a small gasp, but didn’t jerk away. They went still for another few minutes before Francis made a similar gesture, stopping Miles from rubbing his neck so much and gently caressed his bruises, not looking into his eyes quite yet. Weirdly, it helped. It didn’t so much mitigate the discomfort as it made him not notice it as much. Maybe because his brain was too busy screaming every curse word in the book.

Neither of them were really sure what happened after that, but all of a sudden they both leaned into each other and kissed like it was nothing. Then they just kept going. It wasn’t desperate or deliberate like their other kisses had been, but it was needed. Like a Band-Aid or a painkiller put on their suffering while they focused on tasting each other. Francis held him close all throughout, sneaking his hands under his shirt and Miles held onto his face. In between kisses, Francis laughed and it was a genuine laugh. He sounded so happy despite everything that had occurred that day. So happy, that Miles couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“God…our lives…are so fucked up,” Francis muttered, biting at Miles’ bottom lip, making him gasp.

“Couldn’t…agree more,” Miles then began sucking at Francis’ chin and neck. Francis clasped him tighter, his nails digging slightly into Miles’ skin.

“You know, I genuinely thought you were gone until you woke up,” He murmured, breathing heftily.

Miles moved back upwards so their lips were less than a centimetre apart and they were making direct eye-contact, “That’s a bit pessimistic, don’t you think?” He kissed him and slipped his tongue in, sort of to shut him up. The last thing Miles wanted to do right now was reflect.

The moments where Francis could fit in a couple words became sparser, which was Miles’ goal, but he still didn’t appear to get the hint and it took him about five minutes to squeeze out a sentence, “I’m being…serious…it was Jason y’know…anything could’ve…happened.”

Soon, Miles pulled away only to say, “Let’s talk about this later,” before Francis nodded and they went straight back to just making out.

For ages, Miles was preparing for the inevitable breakdown Francis was going to have and was ready to help comfort him if it all became too much. He was looking for the shaking, the rapid breaths, the tears, so he could try to catch it early before it could get any worse. But it never came. Actually, they only stopped when they both got too tired to continue and just moved to holding each other as the hormones died down and their soreness rose back to intensely noticeable levels again.

This was how it was supposed to be. Miles took in the moment as much as he could, but he was well-and-truly exhausted. In the end, they both only moved to down some Tylenol before drifting off into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Miles woke up cold, but he spotted Francis instantly. He was sat on the ground, leaning against the sofa rather than on it, left knee tucked to his chest while watching something on the TV.

Miles rubbed his eyes, “How’s your leg?”

“Not much better,” He didn’t avert his eyes from the screen, “Still can’t walk.”

“Want me to make you a coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Francis sounded like this coffee was the only thing standing between him and heaven.

As he got up, Miles glanced at the TV to see that Francis was watching the news. This wasn’t actually abnormal for him; ever since the incident in freshman year, he paid a lot of attention to news broadcasts on the radio and television. Frankly, Miles thought it was some kind of habit developed out of paranoia, as before, Francis admitted to avoiding the news to ‘keep some things sacred’ whatever that meant. The story playing on the screen the however, implied this morning it wasn’t just about routine.

“Holy shit, are they talking about us?” Miles squinted, crouching slightly to look at the presenter.

Francis nodded, “They can’t show our names because we’re under eighteen, but they have for Jason this time. I assume that’s in case anyone sees him around.”

A few of the statements they had made to the police were then read out and flashed on the screen, which made Miles cringe slightly. In retrospect, he felt like he could have been meaner.

“Where is this being broadcast?” Miles asked, heading towards the kitchen to start boiling the kettle.

“I think all of Jersey and a couple parts of New York, Pennsylvania…maybe even Connecticut? Just in case he’s trying to get as far away as possible.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already made it to Maine if that’s the case,” Miles spooned the instant granules into two mugs, “I know he can’t drive, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gotten a ride.”

“We’re never gonna get out of this apartment if he has someone helping him that’s willing to waste gas driving to Maine,” Francis guffawed, “God, imagine if it’s Hunter,” His eyes widened excitedly at the hypothetical.

“I highly doubt that,” Miles stirred the brown liquid.

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

“You underestimate Hunter’s feelings for you, I don’t think he’d willingly be an accessory to your attempted murder again,” Miles scowled, sitting down next to Francis on the floor.

“Do you seriously think he still likes me like that?” He quirked his eyebrow sceptically.

“Oh yeah,” Miles repressed the urge to gag.

“You jealous?” Francis sniggered and Miles shoved at him.

“Fuck off, what would I be jealous of?”

“That he got to me first,” He snorted into his coffee mug and Miles’ jaw-dropped. He dismissed how his stomach curled at the thought.

</3

Turns out, there’s not very much you can do while holed up in a tiny apartment for hours and hours. With Francis not being able to walk, he spent most of the day vegging or napping on the couch. For a few minutes, Miles was close to venturing outside to try his luck with the free clinic to get something stronger than Tylenol and if not, just get more Tylenol because they were even now on track to run out before the evening. However, neither of them were particularly jazzed about the idea of going out with Jason still on the run, so that was vetoed. What didn’t help, was that they were both too tired and in too much pain to reasonably have any meaningful conversation, therefore, all of Miles’ questions about their kiss the night before were forced to float around in his brain, trapped.

Their tranquillity (and boredom) was interrupted abrasively by Francis’ phone ringing, which scared the living daylights out of the both of them. Upon looking at his cell, Francis made a small, crooked smile and answered, “What’s up, Illi?”

“Hey Francis, are you with Milli right now?” Miles could sense he was in trouble, even though he wasn’t sure why yet. She sounded sinister despite the tin-like filter on her voice.

“Yeah.”

“He won’t pick up the phone.”

“It’s broken.”

“I see,” She made a loud, aggressive sigh, “Well, Ray and I are on our way to your apartment right now. We should be there in a few hours.”

“Oh okay,” Francis’ eyebrows raised to meet his hairline as he grinned, sensing the doom ahead of them, “Want me to say anything to Miles?”

“No, he needs to see the look on my face when I scream at him.”

“I see. See you later Illi,” Francis laughed when she hung up and turned to Miles, “She’s angry at you,” He clarified, mockingly pretending that Miles hadn’t heard all of that.

“I probably deserve it,” He admitted and Francis cackled.

When the doorbell rang in the middle of their dinner of plain pasta – Francis had run out of sauce from when they used it for lunch – Miles bolted to check the peephole. Indeed, Illi and Ray were standing there, somehow both looking equally pissed off, which either meant Ray was putting in some serious legwork to look more threatening, or Illi was maintaining her composure. Once he opened the door, he was immediately greeted with a slap from his sister and then an embrace.

“You look terrible,” she said as Ray brushed past them to tackle Francis into a hug too.

“Gee, thanks,” Miles mumbled sarcastically.

Then, Illi pulled away to look at her brother properly, her eyes sparkling with wetness, before they turned significantly more enraged, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us that Jason was out of juvey?” She seethed, dragging him to where Francis was sat so she could talk to both of them. Ray joined to stand beside her.

“I didn’t want to burden you guys,” Miles defended, “You had more important shit to think about.”

“More important?” Ray huffed, “What’s more important than knowing the guy who tried to kill Francis and now you too, Miles, is roaming free as a bird?”

“Well, it’s not like any of us could do anything about it!” He snapped, “I just thought you didn’t need the extra stress, because you both know you would absolutely be stressing about it.”

“Wonder why,” Illi griped sarcastically, “You know they showed on the news CCTV footage of you guys getting attacked, right? Y’know how dreadful it was to find out that Jason was out of juvey through watching my brother and one of my best friends getting practically mauled by him?”

Miles jerked his head to the side to stare at Francis, “They did?” and he hesitantly nodded to confirm this, “And you watched it?” His friend shrugged.

“Mom and Dad are worried sick you know?” Illi snarled, “You haven’t told them anything! Not even that you’re staying with Francis! They just found out this morning that you two have been attacked and have no idea where you are!”

Okay, putting it like that made it sound a lot more horrifying than Miles had originally thought. What was worse, was that he’d barely even thought about what his parents were going through at all. He couldn’t exactly call them though.

“Illi, give me your phone,” He ordered, stretching his hand out. For a moment, she appeared baffled, but she eventually understood.

Despite the walls in this apartment somehow being even thinner than the Miles’ house’s, he still went into the bathroom to make the call to replicate the idea of privacy. The conversation itself felt very transactional, which Miles couldn’t figure out whether he preferred to what could’ve been a soppy ordeal. He found himself getting distracted by hearing everyone else talking in the other room; impressive, considering how he couldn’t really make out what they were saying, especially not compared to the noise blaring directly into his ear. They sounded anxious, Miles could give them that, but he was kind of expecting more. A frustrated earful from his dad, a tearful ‘I’m just glad you’re okay’ from his mom, but it was as if they were holding back all of that. Maybe it was his age, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to talk to them. Granted, it was never easy and going days without speaking to them once had been common for years, but on the rare occasion they did speak, it was just unbelievably awkward now.

From the moment Miles walked out of the bathroom, he knew something was wrong. He’d noticed during the call that the others had gotten quieter and he figured out why just from the look on Francis’ pale-greenish face. There was no way he could drag him to the toilet on time, so instead, Miles hastily grabbed the saucepan he’d used to make the pasta and shoved it in front of his friend so he could hurl straight into it. While Francis was chucking up, Miles sat beside him, pulling his hair away from his face and rubbing circles on his back. Ray and Illi looked perplexed.

“Can you two speak telepathically or something?” Ray queried, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and horror, “How’d you recognise that was going to happen?”

“It’s this face he does when he’s going to vomit,” When Francis lowered the saucepan, Miles passed him a tissue and switched to just holding him, “Trust me, I’ve seen it a lot.”

“I think-” Francis mumbled and then gagged, “I think the Tylenol has worn off.”

“We’ve ran out,” He glanced at his sister, “Is it okay if you run to the pharmacy down the road and get some? I’ll pay you back.”

Illi inhaled through her teeth, “Have you thought about getting anything stronger?” She snuck a glance at Francis before looking at Miles in the eye again, “Both of you look like you need it.”

“Yeah, I was going to, but I think to get enough for both of us, Fran would have to be there too and he’s not very mobile currently,” Francis chuckled at that and Miles took the saucepan from him so he could clean it out, “Plus, we’d have to leave the apartment and neither of us are particularly enthusiastic about doing that.”

“Are you seriously going to barricade yourselves in here until Jason gets caught?” Illi crossed her arms, “It could take weeks, maybe even months before he does, you can’t just hide forever.”

“But he will keep trying to find us,” Francis mumbled, voice barely audible due to his mouth being pressed up against his left knee that he’d tucked to his chest, “As long as he’s free, we are in danger.”

It was disconcerting seeing Francis get like this – usually he was so gung-ho about taking risks and fighting problems head-on – but it was as if the encounter with Jason the previous day had rewired his brain in a way. Illi and Ray seemed to discern the change too, but that only made Illi double-down.

“Sure, but he’s also a wanted fugitive and wouldn’t acting this soon when he’s the authorities’ top priority just maximise the likelihood he’d get arrested? I know he’s not the brightest of the bunch, but I doubt he’s that stupid,” She reasoned, playing with her car keys on her finger, “Plus you have us. We can be buffers if necessary.”

“I have no problem with knocking out all of Jason’s teeth if I see him,” After saying that, Ray made the widest, cheesiest and most jarring smile ever to reinforce Illi’s point.

 Miles shot a peep at Francis to try and guess where his mind was heading, but he apparently had the same idea, so they just stared at each other in attempt to mentally converge. If anything, Miles was warming up to the idea, as if his own pain was a marker to go by to try and get stronger painkillers, then Francis needed them. It was a miracle Miles hadn’t thrown up yet himself and Francis looked about ready to do it again. The weirdest thing about the bruising on his neck was that it made him realise how basically everything vital to survival relied on the integrity of the throat. Speaking, eating, breathing. Hell, he’d barely touched food all day even though he’d made it for himself, because after the first bite, this tsunami of agony would prevent him from doing it again. Hunger pains were no match for that. So, he couldn’t imagine what torture was Francis’ thigh going through for him to actually vomit.

“How far is the nearest free clinic?” Miles asked.

“I think the one that’s in my neighbourhood,” Ray supposed, “Though we’d still need to drive.”

“Driving’s better,” Francis tuned in, his voice straining as he gagged again and Miles sprinted to grab the saucepan a second time.

The real challenge was getting Francis to the car. Although his leg wasn’t numb anymore, he explained the reason he couldn’t walk was that every time he put pressure on it, the pain would spike to such a degree that the shock would buckle his knee. Really, he needed a second crutch, but since he didn’t have another one, they opted to give that role to Miles. The outcome was…not unsuccessful. It was difficult to ensure that zero pressure was put on that leg, so every so often, Francis would let out yelp or a groan and they would have to pause for a second in case he threw up. Obviously, once he was in the car it was fine, but then they had to repeat this process when walking into the clinic and by the end of that, Francis looked like he was yearning for the grim reaper to just take him already.

There were about two other people in the waiting room, which could’ve been a lot worse, but it was about 8pm and the place supposedly closed around 8:30, so the possibility they’d get kicked out before seeing a doctor was too high for comfort. When it got to 8:20, they were preparing themselves for a rough night ahead of them and were just about to give up when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Francis?”

The woman’s tone was halfway between shocked and relieved. Miles only realised who it was when he looked up.

“Dr Wren?” Francis’ face lit up, “I didn’t know you volunteered here.”

“Well, only when I have time,” She admitted humbly, but then her face turned concerned very quickly, “I saw the news,” Her eyes flicked to Miles, “Come on, I’ll take a look at both of you.”

When they finally managed to hobble their way to the consultation room, Miles became a little scared that he was going to pass out; he suddenly became quite dizzy and disorientated, likely due to the fact he’d consumed close to nothing since breakfast the previous day and once they got Francis sat down, Illi gripped onto his wrist and mouthed ‘are you okay?’. Miles shook his head and then promptly fainted.

Waking up on the floor for the second time in less than 48 hours was not a particularly pleasant experience, though this time he didn’t hack up a lung. Illi – who had presumably caught him – was holding onto his torso while Dr Wren was holding his legs up to get the blood back to his head.

“God, you two are in a state,” She sighed putting his legs down to grab something from the desk, “Why didn’t you come here sooner? Or go to the hospital?” She then passed him a packet of cookies, “Eat these, I don’t care if it hurts, it’s already past closing time and none of us need you passing out again.”

As much as he was dying to scarf down the cookies as fast as possible, he ended up picking the chocolate chips out and eating those, as the thought of the bread-y part of them scraping against his throat put him off even attempting that. Dr Wren just glared at him disapprovingly and moved on to business.

“So, what do you guys need?” She took turns looking at Francis sat on the patient-bed and Miles lying on the floor, “I’m guessing by the saucepan in your hand and the fact you keep dry heaving, that you’ve been vomiting?” Francis gave her a thumbs up in response.

“They’re both in a lot of pain and need something to deal with that so Francis can walk again and Miles can eat,” Illi answered when neither of them responded, which made Dr Wren flash an amused smile.

“Tylenol not helping?”

“Doing close to nothing,” Francis said bitterly.

“I can write you two a prescript for Vicodin, but that’s about the best I can do for you,” She began scribbling on a piece of paper, “Since you’re both under eighteen, even that’s pushing it, so be grateful and for god’s sake be careful with it. Especially you Francis, I know it’ll be tempting to keep taking the strong stuff for your usual pain, but as soon as things return back to your normal, even if it’s still sore, stop taking it. You two,” She pointed at the college students, “Keep an eye on them for me, I can’t have more kids getting hooked on opioids.” They nodded.

Francis’ eyes widened instantly, “How do you know that I still have trouble with pain in my leg?”

“Dr Cranford is a close friend of mine,” Dr Wren began typing on her computer, “I sometimes ask how you’re doing and he’s one of those guys who takes brutal honesty frightfully seriously.”

“But Dr Cranford-”

“Doesn’t know about your pain?” She interrupted, smirking, “Oh, he does; why do you think you still have bimonthly checkups with him rather than biyearly?”

From the look on Francis’ face, Miles could see him going through ego death.

“He’s a physical therapist, Francis. He can smell bull-crap from a mile away.”

“If he knew the whole time, then why hasn’t he done anything about it?”

Dr Wren cleared her throat, “He can’t do anything until you tell him what’s wrong. Not only can’t he pinpoint the route of the problem without a proper explanation, but he also can’t legally put you through treatment without your consent.”

“Oh,” Francis’ head dropped and Miles could very visibly see the sheepish look he was hiding from the doctor.

“Yeah, oh,” She giggled slightly, “Maybe next time, try being a bit more transparent, okay?” She then handed a piece of paper to Ray, who seemed to be the only person who wasn’t occupied with being incapacitated or didn’t have his hands full, “I’ve given you both a days’ worth of Vicodin each, plus one extra dose for tonight. That should get you through the worst of it and then a rota of Tylenol and Ibuprofen should suffice for another couple of days.”

“Thank you,” both Francis and Miles said in chorus.

Before they left the room, Dr Wren called out to them, “Sorry, I just have to ask,” She sounded nervous, like she was worried she was going to offend them, “Is it true? That the guy who attacked you two yesterday is the same person who almost killed you a few years ago?” She directed at Francis and he could only give a gloomy nod to answer it, “Why would they ever let him out of prison?”

They all shrugged and left it there.

</3

“This shit is magical,” Francis was beaming, “I can see why Dr Wren told me to be careful, I’d get addicted so easily,” The mere fact that Francis was successfully staying upright by himself and all the colour had flushed back into his face, was enough for Miles recognise how revolutionary the vicodin was for him, “This is the first time in…God, I don’t know even how long, that I’m not aching at all.”

Miles couldn’t agree more. Now, simply breathing didn’t feel like a knife was puncturing his oesophagus. Although, maybe it was the medication, but he was exhausted. Like he’d pulled all-nighters for a straight week type-exhaustion. He was laying in Francis’ bed, world still spinning from the lack of nutrition, but he could barely move a limb to eat. When he didn’t say anything, Francis raised an eyebrow at him and kneeled beside the bed, pushing a bit of Miles’ hair out of his face.

“Hey, are you alright? You scared us a little earlier,” He smiled and but Miles didn’t.

“So did you,” He mumbled back.

“Not as much as you did,” Francis snorted when Miles rolled his eyes and got up to join Miles on the bed, “Even Dr Wren let out a squeal when you collapsed. Illi freaked out.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t have particularly good memories of me passing out before,” Miles felt Francis put his face in the groove of his neck and wrap his arm around him.

“That’s because you’re a wheezy guy,” Francis giggled and his lips brushed at Miles neck, making him go bright red pathetically fast, “Not enough oxygen going to that tiny brain of yours.”

“Something like that,” He had to admit, even he cracked a smile then, “Did I ever tell you how we found out I had asthma?” Francis shook his head and it took Miles a few seconds to figure out whether that meant yes or no from the angle they were attached to each other, “I suffocated.”

“Wait, actually?”

“Yep, just like you, I had to be resuscitated. I was in middle school; Illi was with me when it happened. We were sat on the bench in the park,” Retelling the story felt odd. He wasn’t sure whether he’d ever tried to explain it before and the words felt unfamiliar on his tongue.

Francis stuttered out a slew of incomprehensible noises before muttering, “Goddamn,” He then breathed in sharply like he was going to say something else, but he stopped himself.

“Go on,” Miles urged.

“No, it doesn’t matter. I’ll ask you when you’re less tired.”

“Okay.”

A small silence followed and Francis kept making these small movements that Miles felt reverberate through his entire body.

Then, Francis giggled, “God, you’re so pretty.”

All of a sudden, it was like Miles was wide awake again, “You are so high.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true, I’m just more willing to be honest,” Francis held him tighter and Miles almost shivered from the built-up tension under his skin.

Frankly, he didn’t have any follow-up to that. At least ones that were sensible. But something hit him.

“I don’t think anyone’s called me pretty before,” He murmured.

“Either everyone but me is blind, or you’re so pretty, people don’t know how to vocalise it,” Francis hid a kiss on the back of his neck, which made Miles release way larger exhale than was appropriate, “Now get some sleep moron, we both need it.”

</3

The next morning, Illi and Ray dragged them out of the apartment again to go grocery shopping, as the only edible items left in Francis’ cupboards were jars of peanut butter and booze. Apart from both of them waking up at stupid-o’clock in the morning because both their Vicodin pills had worn off simultaneously and their bodies had presumably done that to say, ‘ow, can you fix this?’, they’d had the most luscious sleep either of them had experienced in a while. The biggest surprise was the absence of nightmares, but that also could have been a product of the painkillers. They’d basically written off school for the moment, as there was no easier way for Jason to follow them home than when leaving the place they had to go every day, so they genuinely had nothing to do anyway apart from vegging. This was partially why Miles wasn’t completely refusing to go out, along with the fact they had no food, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t shitting himself the whole time.

Through the whole car ride, he continuously looked around to see if they were being followed, to the point where Ray stopped the car to tell him to calm the fuck down.

“I thought those drugs were supposed to feel good as well as stop the pain,” Illi said, tapping her cigarette out her window.

“Well, clearly my survival instinct has surpassed those effects,” He grumbled and Francis put his hand on top of Miles’.

“Pfft!” Illi crowed, “You’ve never had any sort of survival instinct, you’re just anxious, there’s a difference.”

“I think I have the right to be anxious.”

“You do, but not to pass on that feeling to everyone else.”

“Can I at least have a smoke?” He asked and all three of the others shouted “No!” at the same time.

The store they went to, Miles wasn’t familiar with. Apparently, Francis had switched to it after he moved as it was closer and cheaper, but with the caveat that it was substantially smaller, which was better in this case, as they could get in and out faster. Seeing Francis drugged up this morning was almost a trip in of itself – it was possible the Vicodin had a greater effect on him than Miles because of his small size. For Miles, it just made him tired, but Francis’ behaviour had shifted greatly since before they took it. First of all, he was as cool as a cucumber, unlike Miles who was still jittery about everything. It was odd seeing him so serene to say the least. The other change was that it was evident he wasn’t all there. He was slower to respond and the brain fog came in full-force at multiple points. Miles vaguely wondered whether he’d taken more than he was supposed to, but when he whispered in Francis’ ear to ask him about it, he chuckled a little at him.

“Dr Wren gave me a larger dosage, Miles,” He said quietly to avoid Illi and Ray eavesdropping from behind them, “Did you not see on the slip?”

“I didn’t look at it,” He admitted self-consciously.

“Trust me, I have no plan in becoming a junkie, I have enough problems already,” Francis elbowed him, “Now start telling me what you want, I’m feeding you too, remember?”

Indeed, Miles in fact had forgotten that and the panic set in immediately. All the ideas of things he’d usually eat during the week were very not vegetarian and he didn’t want Francis to feel pressured to spend his own money on things he wouldn’t eat. Miles would’ve chipped in, but he was run-dry on pocket money that wasn’t already allocated to fuel costs. These moments were the only times he wished he had a job.

“I’ll just eat what you eat, it’s no big deal,” He ended up saying after some deliberation. He wouldn’t exactly begrudge eating veggie temporarily, “I’ll pay half on everything when I have the money.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Francis scrunched his nose and waved his arm dismissively, “And don’t worry about asking for meat products, I really don’t care.”

“If you buy meat products for me, I will be paying you back for those,” Miles affirmed and Francis rolled his eyes, “You could make spaghetti with no sauce every day and I would still eat it, I’m not fussy. Just get what you usually do and maybe a couple multiples for me.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you should have a say in what you’re eating in my apartment,” He stopped the shopping cart to reach for a loaf of bread.

“I do have a say and that is that I’m okay with anything!” Miles’ voice heightened in pitch and Francis got more exasperated. They turned into one of the refrigerated isles next to the bakery section.

“Miles, what do you usually have on sandwiches?” Francis picked up a tub of margarine.

“I don’t know, ham and cheese I gue- hey wait, what are you doing?” All of a sudden Francis had grabbed some sort of cheese and was b-lining towards the section with pre-sliced meat and once Miles had clocked what was happening, Francis was already waving a pack of ham slices at him, grinning wide. “You asshole! Put it back!”

“God, you’re being so dramatic,” Francis threw the ham into the cart and Miles scrambled to get it out.

“What part of, ‘I’ll just eat what you eat,’ do you not understand?” He bugged his eyes out his friend, whose smirk had turned into a scowl.

“Miles, just let me do this for you, okay?” Francis’ voice got deeper, more breath-y.

Letting out a sigh, Miles began to put back the ham in protest, but before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by his sister.

“Oh my god, can you guys stop bickering, you’re driving us nuts,” This entire time, Miles had barely noticed Illi and Ray were even there, let alone listening in.

“We’re not-!” Miles started, but groaned out of it when he realised it was just a big fat lie, “This doesn’t concern you two!”

“Milli, stop being a little bitch and just let him buy you meat,” she said sternly.

His jaw dropped, “I can’t believe you’re taking his side,” Francis just twitched his head to the side and smiled in victory.

“Francis, don’t think you’re getting away with this fully either,” She pointed at him and a small growl in her voice appeared, “Stop provoking him and swallow your pride a bit and let him pay for his own fucking food.”

In response, Francis put his palms out in front of him to surrender and the shopping continued, the first thing he did being placing the ham into the cart for the second time.

</3

Illi and Ray ended up staying the rest of day and by some miracle, managed to fit and sleep on Francis’ sofa, even though Ray was about twice the length of it and they were tangled together like the basket of wires that was in Miles’ parents’ office. By the time they’d woken up, the pain was back but it was muffled enough now that Tylenol and a few prayers was definitely enough to fix it. Francis came off the Vicodin…a bit rougher to say the least. Somehow, they’d both managed to wake up before the other two, so they took one look at each other to check how they were doing and to prevent disrupting Illi and Ray, Francis whispered into Miles’ ear, “Can you please get me some ibuprofen?” Then, he pulled a face that communicated the urgency of this request.

Miles nodded and treaded as light as he could to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to grab the pot before returning into the warm embrace of the bed.

After swallowing the pills dry, Francis muttered, “Miles, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Yes! Finally, they were going to address what had happened with the kiss and what Francis wanted to ask Miles the previous day and for once, Miles was going to get some answers.

“Of course.”

Francis appeared skittish, fiddling with his hands in the space between their chests, “Please don’t judge me.”

Miles crossed his heart. He was prepared for whatever Francis was going to say.

“I want to go to Church today.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t.

A hollow, “Oh,” was all Miles could react with.

“You’re judging,” Francis accused, the upset in his face making Miles feel like his intestines were being pulled out his throat.

He rushed to save it, “No! I’m not-…I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Francis flashed him an unconvinced smile, but didn’t push it further, “I don’t really know how to bring it up to the other two.”

“I’ll drive, I won’t tell them where we’re going and we’ll drop you off. I’ll just tell them what you told me if they ask,” Though he still wasn’t necessarily a fan of all of it, he was finding it easier to be supportive. He probably should have expected this, Francis hadn’t taken off his rosary once since their confrontation with Jason, not even to sleep.

“Thank you,” His smile then shifted to a more genuine one.

Before getting up to make coffee, Miles gave Francis a hug for reassurance. The kettle woke the other two up, who both immediately demanded for him to double the amount he was making in assumption he was only filling two mugs, but Miles had thought ahead and done that already. When they heard that the juniors were planning on leaving the apartment again, Illi and Ray were ecstatic and Miles had to swallow the acid reflux that built up in his throat. He knew they’d want answers, there was no way they were going to see Francis walk into the church without prying Miles for every last piece of information he knew.

The drive there was eerily quiet. Neither Illi nor Ray asked where they were going and the only sound breaking through the engine rumble was Francis’ knee speedily bouncing up and down. Miles tried to focus on the road. When they stopped outside the same church Miles had found him walking out of almost two months prior, the older ones didn’t seem to notice anything was afoot until Francis got out the car and Miles stayed put. The boy watched his friend enter the building, wincing with every step, looked around for a few seconds to make sure nothing outside seemed fishy, and drove off.

“Where are we going?” Illi asked.

“The park.”

Miles was thankful they didn’t speak until they got to the bench, as it gave him time to think about what he was actually going to say to them. But, they didn’t beat around the bush interrogating him once they were all sat down.

“Since when did Francis start going to church?” Illi’s voice gave away how alarmed she was, even with the harsher overtone.

“I don’t know,” Miles exhaled, picking at the skin around his nails, “I only found out he was just over a month ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His sister seemed more annoyed that it had taken that long for her to find out than she was that he was doing it in the first place.

The junior shrugged, “So much happened that night, I had a lot of things on my mind and…well, it felt a bit private.”

Illi let out a grand sigh before saying, “This is bad.”

“I’m not sure,” Miles admitted and Illi stared at him like he’d just said the most outrageous sentence that had ever been spoken, “He told me it helps, so can it be that terrible?”

“Milli, this is the same religion that made him hate himself. All I can see it’s helping with, is feeding his fucked-up view that there’s something wrong with him for being in love with you.”

That struck a chord in Miles’ head, one that propelled him back into his original mindset; the one that made him terrified.

Still, he tried to reason with it, “But I don’t think he goes to sermons or anything, he told me the main reason he goes is for confession.”

“Confession about what?” Her scepticism was not aiding in Miles’ attempts to not jump to conclusions.

“I don’t know! Could be anything! People confess about the smallest of things, assuming it’s something serious just shows we don’t trust him,” The little nod Ray gave him made him feel a lot better about his reluctancy to believe it was undeniably harmful.

“Do you trust him?” Illi asked leaning back into the bench as she fumbled to get her cigarette pack out of her pocket, “Milli, you know him better than both of us combined, probably, if your gut tells you something, you should listen to it.”

“Both can be true, y’know? If my gut says to trust him, would you then believe me? Or is your mind made up already?”

“Does it say that?”

Miles paused and pushed down his biases for a moment while he thought about it. He knew what his gut said and there was no point in lying to Illi, she already knew the answer. But he didn’t want to picture the reality they were all thinking. He could see it in his mind, clear as day, Francis sat in the confession booth, teary eyed and begging for forgiveness for every time they’d toed the line between platonic and romantic. It was unbearable to think about, but it imprinted his mind to the point where he couldn’t ignore it.

He wondered what Francis had told the priest the night Miles lost his virginity. He wondered if he was jealous, if the fact Renée was a woman made it any harder for him to stomach.

It hurt that he just accepted it.

If he truly did have an inkling that Miles had feelings for him, how could he believe he was doing the right thing by letting him go? Was he really that convinced it was never going to work?

“My gut says he’s way too comfortable with being miserable.”

“Well, I can believe that,” Illi huffed, “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll talk to him.”

</3

So, it turned out, talking to Francis about anything with a more earnest overtone, was near impossible. Partially, it was Miles’ fault for chickening out a lot, but considering that so much had happened in those few days and Francis had not brought any of it up, he had a feeling it wasn’t just him. By the time it had reached a week since they got attacked, Miles was close to blowing up. They hadn’t gone outside since the day Francis went to church and the most productive conversation they’d had while stuck in the same apartment for hours upon days was about whether Francis should get a new cane or if he should just stick with the crutch. They were bored. They were frightened. They weren’t communicating about it.

No mention of the kiss, no retrospective about the church, not even a discussion about what had occurred a week before that was compelling them to be hermits. Illi and Ray were refusing to go back to university until Jason got captured, but they hadn’t called them up to ask them to escort them anywhere for days, so what was really the point in them staying?

All this came to a head when Francis called his boss to say he wasn’t coming in, which Miles forgot he still technically had to do. He could hear her through the phone speaker and compared to the last time he heard her voice, she sounded far more sympathetic.

“Hey Mandi, I’m just lett-” He began before instantly getting cut off.

“You didn’t need to call Francis; I know why you’re not coming in.”

“I just thought you would have appreciated it,” He rubbed at his eyes.

“I do, but I would not have blamed you if you didn’t. I’m sorry about what happened to you and make sure to tell your friend I’m sorry too.”

“I will.”

“Rest up, Francis.”

After she hung up, Francis looked up to make eye-contact with Miles and began to say what his boss had told him, but he interrupted to let him know that he had heard. A tense silence followed, where both of them knew what to say, they just deeply didn’t want to. Soon enough, Miles caved.

“Fran, it’s been a week,” The sentence was physically painful to say, like the air was poisonous.

“I know,” He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes.

“We don’t know if the cops are even close to finding him.”

“I know,” Francis repeated, a bit more frustrated this time, sighed, then looked up at his friend, “Miles you almost died. I thought you were dead.”

“But I’m okay,” He reminded him, “We’re okay. We can’t keep hiding, who knows how long it’ll take for him to be caught?”

“I don’t care how long it takes,” All of a sudden his voice got dark, gritty, decisive, “We may be okay now, but have you thought about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t managed to trip him over? We may not be so lucky next time.”

“We don’t know if there'll even be a next time.”

“Exactly!” Francis’ voice scraped against his throat, “That’s what’s scaring me! I thought I lost you for less than a minute and that was too fucking long. Even if we do survive a ‘next time’, what will the damage be? I can’t lose any more mobility; I would rather him break my neck and be done with it.”

“Stop talking like that Fran, you’re obsessing over something that won’t even happen,” Miles raised his voice. He didn’t really believe what he said, but someone had to be the sensible one.

“It won’t if we stay safe,” Francis insisted, “All Jason did was get my work address, come up to me on my shift and freak me out enough to ask you to pick me up early. It was too easy for him to trap us. It was too easy for him to trap me the first time. It will be easy if we go out on our own again.”

“What did he even say to you?” Miles was losing rebuttals fast, so he tried to sideline. He was curious after all.

Francis sat down on the bed and leant against the wall, “At first it was just some goading bullshit, I don’t remember the details, but what I do remember, is him making a comment about my leg. ‘Shame about your limp, I’ll know to aim for the chest next time’.”

Miles’ jaw dropped, “Yeah, I can see why you called me.”

“Did he say anything to you before I whacked him?”

Chest tightening, Miles blanked on his words. Though he recalled it, clear as day, nothing could come out of him. Like there was an invisible barrier, blocking them from coming out. Out of nowhere, he saw Jason in front of him again, reaching for his neck, cackling. His oesophagus closed up again, the hands were wrapped tight, he clawed at them to try and get them off but they just wouldn’t budge. The pain was back in full force, his skin was burning, his eyes were tearing up. Then his hands were pinned down, where they couldn’t help him anymore. His vision blurred and…Francis was in front of him, holding his wrists, looking fretful and helpless.

“What the fuck,” Miles muttered while he assessed his surroundings. Water droplets streamed down his face before he figured out what had even happened. His hands were shaking like crazy and his neck was in less agony than it was a few seconds ago, but noticeably more than before the weird vision.

He launched himself onto Francis in a hug, because he could feel himself only getting more and more freaked out by the second. Breathing heavily until he stopped shivering, Miles loved how Francis didn’t even ask him what had happened, he just held him, rubbed his back. Also, the fact he wasn’t actively panicking assisted in Miles calming down greatly. Miles pulled away, stared into Francis’ striking pupils and something hit him.

He’d almost died.

He’d almost died and he was wasting time trying to wait for the ‘right moment’ to take the plunge. He’d almost died and it had taken him a week to have an in-depth conversation with Francis about any of it.

Life was too short to not be honest about how he felt.

So, Miles thought ‘fuck it’, and said, “Francis, we need to talk.”

“About what just happened?”

“About us.”

“Oh dear,” Suddenly, Francis looked frightened.

“We kissed last week,” He decided to just jump right into it, “For a while, but you didn’t go all mental breakdown on me. What’s the deal?”

Francis appeared speechless before he pushed out, “I don’t know, I was fucked up! I was in a lot of pain and I guess because I was so preoccupied with that, my brain didn’t have the space to think too much about what we were doing.”

“That’s it?” Miles was unimpressed, “For the first time ever, we kissed and you didn’t seem upset about it and it was because you were in pain? You’re always in pain!”

“We’d both survived being attacked by Jason Daniels earlier that day, I was just taking in the fact you were breathing. People do stupid things when they go through near-death experiences.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it was stupid,” Miles roared.

“That’s not what I-” Francis exhaled and gave Miles a look that said, ‘you’re being dramatic’, which just pissed Miles off even more, “I’m sorry there wasn’t any deeper meaning to it Miles, I know you want to figure out how to make us work like that, but I’m telling you I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Miles challenged, “Can’t do it, or can’t let it happen? Y’know what I think? You can, you just won’t.”

“I can’t do that to you, Miles. It’s not fair,” For a brief moment, Francis looked so adjacent to a sad puppy dog, that Miles almost slapped him.

“Oh don’t start with the ‘you deserve someone better than me’ or the ‘I’m just going to hurt you’ thing,” Miles growled, “You’re hurting me by not even trying. That’s what’s torturing me, Fran.”

“I don’t mean it like that!” Francis defended and gripped his hand to his chest. Wait, not his chest. His rosary.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare tell me that this is to do with condemning me to Hell,” Miles rapidly stood up and walked to the opposite end of the room, “I’m damned if we date and I’m damned if we don't. Unlike you, I don’t go to confession and I have done plenty of things to land me in Satan’s backyard, trust me.”

“I highly doubt you’d go to Hell, Miles,” Francis said a bit too sincerely for Miles’ taste, “But I don’t want to guarantee it. This goes the same for me.”

“So you believe all gays go to Hell?” Miles scoffed, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t think it’s definite,” Francis was significantly calmer now, it was kind of unsettling. He got out his rosary from under his shirt and fiddled with it, frowning, “But…I think my parents may have been right.”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there,” He snapped, ignoring the surge of nausea that what his friend said had given him, “That’s the first sign that maybe you need to re-evaluate your opinions there.”

“This actually brings me back to what I was gonna ask you a few days ago,” To be completely fair, Miles had forgotten about that part of that interaction entirely, as it was in between a mammoth stuff that made Miles’ mind go kaboom, “Both of us we’re dead at some point, right? Do you…remember anything from when that happened to you? Like, while you were out?”

“No?” Miles couldn’t even recall most of what happened before he died, let alone during. The only thing he could picture from around that time was waking up in hospital, “Do you?”

“I-” He stuttered, getting uneasy, “I don’t know. It’s not much and it could be nothing but…I remember this ‘nothingness’.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, it was if I was in this void of sorts. No light, no sound, but I was there.”

“I’m struggling to figure out how this relates to your parents,” Miles quirked his eyebrow and a familiar impulse tugged at his gut. Like he knew what he was talking about, but couldn’t formulate a sensical image of it. Hell, none of this was sensical in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, Francis pinched his lips into a thin line, “Never once in my entire life did anyone tell me that Hell was this volcanic, fiery underworld where you’d get tortured for eternity for swearing once in middle school. Not by my parents, not by my church. What I was told, was that Hell was a state of being after death where you were denied the divine presence. That’s the true punishment. It’s a different kind of suffering.”

In that moment, something clicked in Miles’ head and his stomach curled to the point where was close to sitting back down so he didn’t vomit, “You think you went to Hell.”

It all made sense now. The sudden fall back into Catholicism, the visits to church for confession, his complacency when Miles started dating Renée. That was what he was so afraid of – he thought he’d been to Hell once, so he was determined to not visit again. But it was wrong. So, unbelievably wrong, that all Miles wanted to do was shake him out of it and tell him he was insane.

“It sounds ridiculous, I know, but when I woke up from the coma, I couldn’t shake the thought that I did. I mean, I’m not going to bet money on it, I’m not confident that it’s what actually happened, but what if it did? I don’t want to be reckless about it just in case and I definitely don’t want it to happen to you.”

From a logical standpoint, that argument appeared to make sense. Why risk eternal damnation if you think it’s possible? But if anything, it just made Miles even angrier. He got closer to Francis; close enough that he could the air from his breathing hit his face. He made sure to look him directly in the eyes when he said this.

“So, you’re willing to give up on me based on a small chance that your parents might be right?” It came out hollow and hurtful. Miles was barely able to put any of his voice into that sentence, most of it was an exhale.

Saying it like that appeared to make Francis think a bit harder about it. He didn’t know what Francis went through, he really didn’t, but the fact Miles apparently wasn’t important enough to him for him to swallow his fears for the sake of love, was really telling.

Eventually, Miles got tired of waiting for a response and snarled, “Y’know, if I knew without any doubt, that I would go to Hell if we dated, I wouldn’t think twice about it. If I could spend the rest of my life with you, nothing that happens after matters to me. Because that’s how much you mean to me, Fran, and if you don’t feel the same way, then I’m wasting my time with all of this.”

The whole of Francis’ body froze apart from his eyes, which were flicking all over the room, all across his friend’s body and eventually to Miles’ own eyes. They remained still for about a minute and then Francis stood up, reached for Miles’ face and pulled him into a kiss.

They separated shortly after but their lips remained close.

“Is this your way of shutting me up or are you trying to tell me something?” Miles smiled, blissfully hopeful.

Through rapid breaths, Francis said “An eternity of suffering is worth it for a lifetime with you.”

“So, you’re going to try?” The wave of euphoria that hit Miles was intoxicating.

“My hardest. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.”

“I love you,” Miles uttered and pressed his lips to Francis’.

After a few seconds of contact, they broke free to breathe again. Francis looked directly in Miles’ eyes.

“I love you too.”