Chapter Text
Miles doesn't know what to do.
He wants to talk to Alex, to see him, more than anything. He spends the entire day after his departure staring at his phone, typing out texts that he can't actually bring himself to send and hoping dimly that Alex might ring. He tries to do other things, to distract himself, but it's useless. He swings between feeling empty, completely hollow, and feeling overwhelmed by grief and guilt. He's never been through a breakup before but he imagines this is what it would feel like. He doesn't know how to cope or what's supposed to happen next or how to even begin fixing it. He's almost afraid to try- what if it can't be fixed?
He never does text and Alex never does call and the next day finds Miles sat on a sofa across from a journo with an understanding smile. Real or fake, it does nothing to soothe Miles, who can't seem to stop fidgeting as he waits impatiently for him to move past the polite, easy part of the interview and start asking about Alex. He knows it's coming, Jones had told him as much. He's been thoroughly coached on how best to answer, too. He's meant to seem upset- something that he's probably managing without even trying- but to keep things vague. This way, Jones had said, it's not like he's actually lying to anyone. All he has to do is let them believe what they want to believe.
Which is all fine and dandy but Miles chooses to ignore his advice. Instead, when the interviewer asks gently if he and Alex are okay, Miles replies with a surprisingly vehement, “He didn't cheat on me.”
The interviewer blinks at him. Evidently this wasn't an answer he was prepared for. “Er,” he says, glancing at his notes. “But the relationship is over, correct?”
I hope not, Miles thinks. He'd woken up this morning in a groggy daze and had forgotten, briefly, that Alex wasn't there. Not in his room, not in the kitchen reading or making tea, not sat on the sofa watching telly or out on the balcony having a smoke. Realizing it was like having Alex walk out all over again.
“It... is,” Miles grudgingly admits.
“Then perhaps you'd like to tell us what really happened?”
“It's just- it weren't his fault. Let's leave it at that, yeah?”
Of course the interviewer doesn't want to leave it at that. He prods on, asking questions like are the two of you still in contact and have you seen Alex since the fallout? Miles declines to answer almost all of them.
Miles expects Jones to scold him for giving a piss poor interview but instead, after it's over, Jones gives him a horrid pitying look and pats him on the shoulder. Miles would almost prefer the scolding.
Unfortunately that's only the first interview of many. It gets harder and harder to say Alex's name, until the interviews mostly devolve in Miles mumbling and dodging questions and trying not to let on that he's shaking. He can tell the various journalists and hosts are getting frustrated with him- and for good reason. By the end of it he's frustrated with himself.
He dials Matt straightaway when he's finally set free. He lights a cigarette and takes a delighted drag as he waits for Matt to pick up. It calms him somewhat, so that by the time Matt says, “Hello?”, Miles feels less like he's going to choke on his own heart.
“Have you seen him?” Miles asks in a rush, skipping the pleasantries.
Matt hesitates. “... Seen who?”
“You know bloody well who.”
Miles thinks he catches a sigh but it could very well be static. “Nah, I've not seen him. Heard from him, though.”
The fact that Matt doesn't immediately elaborate seems foreboding. Miles holds smoke in his lungs for a moment, then exhales. It's raining, which seems fitting. Miles has taken shelter under an awning. His car is waiting just down the street, ready to take him home, but he ignores it. “...And?” he prompts. He's not sure what he wants or expects to hear.
“And... I dunno, mate. He were in a right state if you want the truth. Couldn't get much sense out of his babbling- dunno if he were sad or angry. Both, I guess. There was summat about you being a liar somewhere in there.”
Matt doesn’t ask for an explanation. Miles doesn't provide one. “What do I do?” he asks instead, the words tripping out of his mouth without his permission. They've got a little too much of a desperate edge to them for his liking.
“Er, what do you usually do when you argue?”
“What?”
“Don't tell you two've never argued. All couples argue, mate.”
Miles opens his mouth, closes it again. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that Matt wasn't in on the secret. “I... I don't- we've never-”
“Never? Really? Christ. You two used to be at each other all the time before you started shagging. How'd you work that out?”
“We started shagging.”
Matt's laugh is infectious enough to coax a smile out of Miles. “Well, summat tells me that won't help you here, eh? I dunno, mate. He'll come round. He's mad about you, I can tell.”
“I think I love him.” Again the words come spilling out without his permission and he almost immediately wants to retract them- but it's also a relief, in a weird way, to have them out there. It's a relief for another human being to know.
“I figured,” Matt says softly, and that's a relief, too. “Give him time. Apologize. All that shite.”
Miles feels marginally better by the time he hangs up. Less like everything is completely hopeless.
Just give Alex time. Right.
-
Thankfully he's got plenty to keep him busy over the next few days. As the release of his album draws ever closer there's more and more promo to do, more and more parties to attend.
He texts Alex on the third day. Just a simple, i'm sorry. Alex doesn't reply.
It's a week before Miles sees him again, staring up at him from the cover of a gossip rag. Jones hands him the tabloid like he's afraid of the reaction it might garner. At first Miles isn't sure why- he's too fixated on Alex. It's only been a week but it feels like it's been an age. Alex looks poorly, really, with his hair a mess, circles under his eyes so dark they look like they've been painted on, and a defensive slump to his posture, but Miles' heart still does a funny little jump in his chest when he lays eyes on him.
Then he takes in the rest of the picture. Alex is holding some bloke's hand, pulling him along behind him, and the headline promises more 'scandalous' pictures inside. He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to know what Alex has been up to- not if what he's been up to is shagging other blokes. Just this, just him holding hands with some guy as they leave a club is bad enough. Miles' imagination serves to fill in the rest. Them drinking, them flirting- maybe they danced? Then, after, Alex leaning close and inviting this stranger back to his with a wicked smirk on his face.
It's not a betrayal, not really, but it feels like one.
Miles places the tabloid face down on the table. He looks up at Jones. “And?”
“You don't want to read it?”
“No.”
Jones squints at him like he's trying to figure him out. “They praise you left, right, and center in that article.”
Miles shrugs.
Evidently his lack of reaction throws Jones off. He shuffles awkwardly and then decides to move swiftly on. He launches into a review of upcoming events that Miles mostly ignores. He spends the meeting staring blankly at the tabloid, distantly hoping it will burst into flame. He never does find out why Jones wanted to show it to him. An attempt to show him how little he should care about Alex, perhaps?
He doesn't care any less. As more pictures of Alex emerge over the next couple of days he just gets angry.
Hard to stay that way, though. Not when Miles wakes to a voicemail from Alex, left at about three in the morning. He slurs, “I- I dunno why I'm calling you. I should hate you, right? But I can't fucking sleep and- and I wanted you to know, that bloke... I couldn't. Like, I were trying to prove a point, I think. But I just couldn't. And now the papers are making a big thing out of it and I should hate you for that, too, probably. I bet you don't even care, eh?” He laughs, once, a bitter sound, and the voicemail abruptly cuts off.
Miles replays it several times. Should, he'd said. It's something.
He calls Alex back a day later. It goes straight to voicemail. Miles doesn't leave one.
He doesn't think twice about accepting when Jamie invites him out two days later.
“A bunch of us, I dunno,” is what he says when Miles asks who'll be there. Miles would be lying if he said he wasn't going in the hopes that Alex might make an appearance.
His hope wasn't in vain, as fate would have it. The pub is crowded but Miles' eyes go directly to Alex, leaning against the bar, bottle in hand, head down, alone. Miles blinks, half expecting him to disappear. He doesn't.
A part of Miles was looking forward to this, anxious to speak with him, but his first instinct is still to turn tail and run. Alex hasn't seen him yet, he's only just arrived, he could get away with slipping out the door and no one would ever have to know he was here. Running might even be the sensible thing to do. But Miles has never been sensible where Alex is concerned. Or much in general, for that matter.
His feet carry him toward Alex of their own accord but he finds, stood mere feet away, that he doesn't know what to say. Alex notices him before he's able to come up with anything. He looks at Miles with a guarded, wary expression and that... hurts. Miles hadn't expected Alex to greet him with a smile but he'd hoped Alex would never again have cause to regard him with such suspicion.
“Kane,” Alex says, monotone. “Weren't aware you'd be attending this little soiree.”
“It were... last minute. Where are the others?”
Alex gestures vaguely over his shoulder, at a table where the lot of their friends are sat. Matt and Jamie have cottoned on to Miles' presence. Jamie is watching them like a hawk, Matt is casting unsubtle glances. Miles gives them a little wave, mostly as a reassurance that he and Alex aren't about to duke it out in front of the whole pub.
Alex taps his fingers on the bar. He looks like he'd kill for a cigarette. He rakes his eyes over Miles, up and down, taking him in, but Miles can only assume it's not deliberate. When he catches himself at it he abruptly turns his gaze away. “Suppose you came for another shag, eh?”
“What?”
“'S all I'm good for, right?”
“Don't put words in me mouth. I never said that.”
Alex stares hard at his beer bottle. “No, you didn't. Heard it loud and clear anyway.”
“Oh, don't be- Look, what is it you think? That I somehow planned all that? Don't be daft.”
“Planned?” Alex finally meets his eye and Miles is struck by how tired he looks. And incredulous. “Did you or did you not know about your manager's fucking plan to throw me under the fucking bus?” he hisses. “You expect me to buy that you didn't? And you still let me-” He cuts himself off with a pained, embarrassed noise. He runs a hand over his face.
Miles glances anxiously at the mass of people around them, several of which are already glancing curiously at them, perhaps on the verge of recognition. Miles inches closer, lowers his voice. “Alex, I want to talk about this, yeah? It didn't happen like- like you think it happened. But maybe this isn't the best place?”
Alex's noise of agreement is muffled behind his palm.
“You live round here right? Why don't we-”
“No,” Alex says. “No, that's not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I've been... drinking. And you're...” He gestures. “'S just not a good idea.”
“Alright... Tomorrow, then?” Miles' eye catches on a fading hickey, just below Alex's collar. He shakes his head, looks away. “I just want to talk, Alex.”
For a moment he looks like he might refuse the request, but finally he acquiesces with a nod. “Fine. Tomorrow night. Come by. But don't you dare bring any bloody paparazzi to my doorstep.” He starts to shrug into his coat, eye already on the door. He downs the rest of his drink in one go.
“Where are you going?” Miles wonders. “The lads-”
“Don't really fancy sitting across from you all night. I'm going for a smoke, then I'm going home. Alright with you?” Alex sneers.
Miles holds up his hands in mock surrender. He watches as Alex weaves his way through the crowd and out the door. Then all that's left is to face the rest of the lads. He tries to do it with a smile. They're gracious enough not to ask for details- not about he and Alex's relationship or its end, but he can feel them wondering, judging. He doesn't stay long.
-
Alex's flat says a lot about him. There's paint and posters on the walls and newspaper clippings on the fridge and framed photographs on the mantle. There's an impressive collection of vinyl in one corner and a row of overflowing bookshelves in the other. The place is damn near spotless, with the exception of a small gathering of used teacups on an end table, an ash tray that's clearly seen a lot of use lately, and a pen and notebook that've been abandoned on the kitchen counter.
It's small but it feels and looks more lived in than Miles' flat ever has. And it suits Alex. The whole place smells like him, or maybe he smells like it- cigarette smoke and paper and something indefinable.
Miles wanders over to the collection of vinyl. He thumbs idly through them as Alex looks on, arms folded over his chest. He's tense, like he's just waiting to be judged negatively, but he seems less... antagonistic than last night. Less likely to yell and get angry. Miles throws him a smile over his shoulder.
“Nice place you've got here,” he says.
“Not as nice as yours.”
“No, but I like it better.” Miles holds up a vinyl with a triumphant noise. “So you have heard me record!”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah. But I didn't buy that, that were all Matt.”
“Christ. How much did he have riding on that bet exactly?”
Alex shrugs. He hadn't bothered dressing up for Miles' visit but Miles doesn't mind. This Alex, clad only in an over-sized shirt and sweatpants so long they cover his toes, is just as appealing to Miles as the Alex who wears shiny shoes and button downs and, on one memorable occasion, braces. In fact he might even prefer this Alex- he seems less guarded, more approachable. It's not the first time Miles has had this realization but right now he's certainly thankful for it. It's so much preferable to the way Alex had been last night.
Miles replaces his own record- right back where he got it from, lest he disrupt Alex's careful organization. “You know, I, er. Read your book. Finally.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, mate. You're brilliant, just like everyone said. I couldn't put it down til I were finished.”
Alex doesn't know what to do with the compliment. He fidgets, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Miles sighs. “Alright. I'll admit, I don't even know where to start. Where do we stand, Alex?”
Alex scrubs a hand through his hair. “I dunno, Miles. I just- you want to make amends, right? Then I need to know why you let them drag me name through the mud like they did.”
“That's just it, I didn't let them. In fact I specifically told them not to.” He closes some of the distance between them, hands outstretched, but he stops just short of actually touching Alex and lets them fall back to his sides. “I would never do that to you on purpose, Alex. I swear it.”
Alex's eyes flick over his face, looking for some sign of a lie, perhaps, but Miles can tell that his sincerity is softening him. “But you knew about it, didn't you?”
“I... Yeah, I did. And I should've told you straightaway. I were going to, in fact, but-”
“But I made a fool of meself before you got the chance.”
“No, Alex.” Miles does touch him then, the barest brush of his fingertips against Alex's arm. Miles has always been a tactile person. He wants to take Alex's hands, or grab him by the shoulders, or cup his face or something but Alex is still holding himself like he expects to shatter- or be shattered- at any moment so Miles refrains. “Look, I've never- I don't know how to-” Miles cuts himself off, frustrated, and starts again. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you as soon as I found out. But I thought, if you knew, you'd leave. And I very much didn't want you to leave.”
Alex bites his lip. His eyes flutter down to the floor and back up again. Finally, he says, voice soft, “Why did you want me to stay?”
It's now or never. Miles has never said these words to anyone outside of his family. He's half afraid they'll get lodged in his throat, forever unsaid, but when he looks at Alex, who he's spent the last few months getting to know, the last few months falling for, it seems easy to admit. “I love you,” he says gently. “I'm in love with you and I didn't want to believe it and I was stupid about it and I'm sorry.”
Miles wonders if Alex can hear his silent plea to not break his heart. Maybe he can. He finally unfolds his arms. He seems in shock. “What?”
“I don't know how else to put it, Alex. I love you.”
Alex opens his mouth, closes it again, and for a moment it's silent. Finally he says, “Do you really?”
Miles dares a smile. “Yes, I really do. And I want to do this right. The whole, like, boyfriend thing. Like, dates that no one else even knows about and I want to meet your mum and I want you to come see me play because you want to, not because you have to, and I want to be around when you can't sleep and need someone, and I want to make you tea in the mornings and I don't want either of us to be shagging someone else-”
Alex smiles back at him, hesitant but real. He holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I think I get the gist.”
“And?” Miles finally takes Alex's hands. He strokes his thumbs over his knuckles. “Please tell me I'm not alone in all this. I dunno if you realize but it took a lot of balls admitting that to you just now, don't ruin it by rejecting me.”
Alex laughs. “Wow, charming, aren't you?” He shakes his head but it's fond exasperation. “I think I'd like that, yeah. Trying out the whole... boyfriend thing. So apology accepted and that.”
“Good.” Miles is grinning, can't help it. He lightly touches the fading hickey on Alex's neck. “Then you shouldn't mind my saying that I'll be glad when this fucking thing is gone.”
Alex's cheeks go pink. “That were, er. As far as we got.”
“I know. I got your message.”
Alex's blush deepens. “Then you know it were cause of you... I guess I should apologize, too. For jumping to conclusions.”
“Apology accepted.” Miles tugs him closer. “I'm going to kiss you now. Alright?”
Alex nods, eyes dropping to Miles' lips. Miles winds his arms around him and kisses him with a depth of feeling he wasn't aware he possessed. Kissing Alex has never been like kissing anyone else and now Miles can admit that he knows why. Because he's so bloody in love with him.
Alex clings when they separate, his fingers gripping Miles' shirt. He doesn't seem in any hurry to move.
“Should I go?” Miles asks softly. He tugs lightly on a strand of Alex's unstyled hair. “It's getting late.”
Alex pulls back to look him in the eye. “Leave now and I'll never forgive you.”
Miles soothes him with another peck on the lips. “Alright. I'll stay. Gladly.”
-
The clock on Alex's nightstand (an antique analog, by the looks of it, which is charming but difficult to read when one is sleepy) is showing six when Miles wakes up. The sun is just peeking over the horizon and Alex is climbing back into bed.
“Where you been, love?” Miles whispers, voice sleep-rough. He curls closer as Alex settles beside him.
Alex smiles at him, that smile that Miles has come to realize is pure fondness. He reaches over to tuck a strand of Miles' hair behind his ear. He's still only wearing boxers and a t-shirt with a gaping neck that does nothing to hide the marks Miles left him with last night. Miles was maybe feeling a little territorial. “It's finished,” Alex says. “The book. It's done.”
“That's wonderful, babe.” Miles takes his hand, smiling back. He pulls him into a quick kiss. “Any particular reason you had to finish it at arse o'clock in the morning, though?”
“I... couldn't sleep.” Alex's smile dims somewhat. “Er, I'm glad you stayed, I am. Last night was perfect, Miles, and I'm trying to just enjoy this. But I keep thinking- what happens next?”
“...What do you mean?”
“I mean, like, with us.”
Miles scrubs at his eyes, willing himself to wake up enough for this conversation. “I told you last night. I want to be your boyfriend, as soppy as that makes me.”
“But what about the press? They all fucking hate me now, they'll hate you for taking me back. And your manager, and the fans who think I wronged you...”
Miles tilts a brow at him. “Are you trying to talk me out of it or summat?”
“What? No, of course not. I'm just saying, like. I get it if you, you know, want to keep it a secret for a while. If you don't want people to know.”
Miles can practically see Alex retreating more and more into himself the longer he talks. He understands why Alex is so cautious, so wary. It's a rather abrupt turnaround for Miles. But it is genuine, and Miles wants to show him that it is. He takes Alex's face in his hands and forces him to meet his eye. “Shut up,” he says gently. “I'm done keeping secrets. I want everyone to know. I'll shout it from the rooftops. By the end of the week people will be sick of hearing me talk about how wonderful you are. Alright?”
Alex nods. He's gone a delightful shade of pink and his smile blooms beneath Miles' touch. “I'm trusting you,” he says. He sounds rather happy about it.
“And I'm trusting you.”
Alex turns his face to plant a kiss on Miles' palm.
“It won't be easy,” Miles tells him. “I won't lie to you. There'll be bad press and idiot paparazzi and I'll have to go on tour soon, but I don't care. I'll put up with all of it for as long as you put up with me.”
Alex shakes his head. He looks on the verge of promising forever- or maybe Miles' imagination is running away with him again. Alex doesn't promise forever but he does ask with a smirk, “Shall I call mum then and let her know we're coming round for a visit?” which is nearly the same thing.
“I do have a couple days off now. She'd kill us if we didn't, eh?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Miles laughs. “Yes, Alex, I'd love to meet your parents. I've got to weasel some good stories out of them for blackmail purposes.”
Alex pouts, over-dramatic, so Miles peppers his face with kisses until he's stifling a giggle. “You're ridiculous,” he says, but he's tangling their legs together under the covers and winding his arms around Miles as he says it. He even makes it sound like a good thing.
“I love you,” Miles tells him. He's said it before- last night, in fact- but it comes out more somber and serious than he'd meant and Alex stills next to him.
For a moment Miles is afraid he's fucked up, that Alex is going to push him away again, and it's a fear he imagines he'll be having to battle for a while. But Alex doesn't push him away this time. He smiles up at him and says, simply, “I love you, too.”