Miles apart (Man × Man) ✔

8) r i l e d

The needles and pins in Ash's arm woke him up in the morning. He glanced at his side, finding the reason for the numbness in his arm. Ash wasn't sure when they had dozed off, but it must have been somewhere around the third movie.

Miles was sleeping in a curious posture. His legs were lifted on the couch and all tangled up, his cheek pressed against Ash's upper arm and his arms wrapped around Ash's waist loosely. He was making these small cute noises that couldn't quite be counted as snoring. The hem of his hoodie had inched up, revealing a strip of skin. He was smiling even in his sleep.

"I can't feel my arm." Ash nudged Miles' shoulder, but he only stirred and mumbled gibberish. "Miles, I'm serious."

"But I'm tired." Miles groaned, but obeyed Ash's command all the same. He sat up straighter and rubbed his eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep. 

Then he reached for his phone to check the time, and then, in his half-awake state, managed to drop it when it started ringing. He picked up the phone and glanced at the screen. Something about the sight drove away his sleepiness and he stood up while answering the call. 

Ash couldn't really tell what the call was about, but whatever it was, it had turned the atmosphere upside down. He rubbed his arm, trying to get rid of the pins and needles, and hovered near Miles. 

"Dammit, dammit, dammit.." As soon as the call was over, Miles started rushing around the apartment, clearing up everything on his way. He put away the posters he had been working on. He tossed empty cans in the kitchen cabinet, swiped all the surfaces within sight and even went as far as squaring the carpets.

"What's wrong?" Ash frowned, following Miles to the bedroom. He watched how Miles opened a dresser and pulled out a pair of slacks and a white button up shirt, which couldn't have been further from his usual attire. The room was just as spotless as the rest of the house, looking posh with its red brick walls, a king-sized bed and black textiles combined with polished bronze surfaces.

"My dad, he'll be here in five." Miles made it sound like someone had just declared a war. "Shit. I need to.." 

Ash followed Miles to the bathroom next, staring at him in growing bafflement, when he brushed his teeth in record time and combed his hair while gargling mouthwash. When the doorbell rang, it startled Miles. He was clearly on edge, just a bundle of nerves.

"Can you go hide?" Miles pleaded, making Ash's frown grow deeper. 

"You're in the closet?" 

"I promise I'll introduce you to him one day, but.." The doorbell rang again and Miles' eyes darted around. "He's not exactly a nice person, and I can't.." 

"Okay, okay, I'll hide." Ash agreed when the doorbell rang for the third time. He doubted the man could be as bad as Miles' reaction to his visit was, but he was afraid Miles would stop breathing and curl up in some corner if the bell rang for the fourth time. 

Ash hid in a narrow space between the open bedroom door and the wall. From the door chink he had a clear view to the apartment, and he saw Miles letting in a man who was in his early fifties. The man didn't stop to greet Miles, but walked straight in like he owned the place. He probably did, anyway. 

The man trailed his finger along the surface of the coffee table, then bringing his hand near his face as if to check if there was any trace of dust. He looked nothing like Miles: his face was set in hard lines, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. He wasn't wearing a suit, but his dark blue shirt, black trousers and leather shoes screamed money. He stood tall, his posture straight like he had a literal stick up his ass. 

Ash instantly disliked the man. However, his dislike skyrocketed when the man walked into the kitchen, a deep scowl on his face, and opened the fridge. Ash couldn't see him anymore, but he could hear him as he scoured the kitchen. 

"It's no surprise you're gaining weight, if you keep poisoning yourself with this garbage." The man complained. 

"I haven't gained weight, dad." Miles objected, his voice lacking conviction. 

"Hmph. We need to take your measurements again. I won't be buying you a new Hugo Boss if you can't fit in your old one." 

Is this asshole for real? 

Ash thought back to their night together and how uncertain Miles had been about his body. He hadn't even considered the option of Miles being serious: there was nothing wrong with his body. Miles was no he-man, he didn't have bulging muscles or anything like that, but there wasn't a thing Ash would have changed about him. And the thought his dad would say something like that to him made Ash sick.

But that wasn't all, the man just kept going: "When is the last time you've been to a barber? Have you shaved?" 

Jesus fucking Christ, what's wrong with this man? 

Ash was furious for Miles, when he listened to him answering the questions. He fought the urge to step away from his hiding place and slam his fist into the man's face, when he started complaining about the "messy" apartment and how Miles should start thinking about a more profitable career. 

"The gala starts at 8 pm on Friday." The man reminded Miles when he was finally in the hallway and about to leave. "You better be on time. I'll book you a barber, I don't want you there looking like a girl. I'll send someone to take the measurements as well." 

Without further ado, the man stormed out of the door. Miles let out a heavy sigh and leaned his back against the hallway wall, running a hand through his hair. Ash joined him in no time. 

"Is he always like that?" He grumbled, glaring at the door incredulously. "What does he think you are? A trophy wife?" 

Miles let out a choked chuckle, before he started making his way back to the kitchen. He crouched down to go through the garbage cans to see if there was anything left to salvage from the left-over pizza his dad had thrown away. He had poured all Miles' energy drinks in the sink as well. 

"It's more like he's too ashamed to be seen with me." Miles' tone was light, if not even jocular, but the smile on his face resembled more of a grimace than an actual smile. He pulled a slice of pizza from the garbage, making a face when it was covered in eggshell pieces. "I guess I should just go on that diet then.." 

"You don't need any diet." Ash frowned, still unable to wrap his head around the fact that Miles' dad would even suggest something so unnecessary and stupid. That was how you raised your children to hate themselves, pushed them in the maelstrom of eating disorders.

Miles dropped the pizza back in the garbage can, shook his head and closed the cabinet door before standing up. He glanced at Ash, plastering a grin on his lips. Yet again he used a light tone, but he was clenching his fists and jaw. There was so much repressed sorrow and anxiety in his stance that Ash couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. "I should probably take a shower and shave. And.. stuff." 

"Miles." Ash placed his hand on Miles' shoulder, stepping closer to him. Miles still refused to look at him. "You have every right to be upset." 

When Miles turned to face him and buried his face on his chest, Ash embraced him tightly. Miles didn't cry, but his breathing was fast and it felt warm against Ash's skin. He didn't hug Ash back, he just stood there leaning on him, shoulders slumped like he was drained from all that kept him going. 

"I won't call you spoiled again." Ash promised, feeling a bang of guilt in his chest for all his complaints about Miles being an entitled, spoiled rich kid who knew nothing about real life. Whoever said that the rich can afford to be nice, clearly hadn't met Miles' dad. That man was a bully, nothing more.

~~~

I wasn't supposed to post today, because I'm going to Pride, but then I accidentally woke up at 3 am.. My train leaves after 11 am so I'm already bored. :D