Miles apart (Man × Man) ✔

10) e n t e r t a i n e d

Miles looked up at the fence, which seemed to tower miles above their heads. He had no idea how they could possibly get over it in one piece, not when just walking a straight line was impossible.

"You don't happen to know how to pick a lock?" Ash suggested, his tone telling he wasn't serious. Why on Earth would a rich kid like Miles know such a thing?

"Have you got a paperclip? Or a hairpin?" Miles grinned, leaning his hand heavily on the fence when he studied the lock. Of course he had noticed right away the door wasn't locked from inside, but Ash didn't need to know that.

When Ash found a paperclip from his pocket, he was staring at Miles with narrowed eyes. He leaned his side against the fence and crossed his arms while he watched Miles fumbling with the lock. He was clearly just waiting to call Miles' bluff, and the look on his face was worth seeing once Miles managed to "unlock" the door.

"Voilà." Miles smirked and opened the door with a low bow, basking in the glory.

"You can pick a lock?" Ash was still staring at him like he had just noticed he had three nostrils instead of two.

"Yup." Miles leaned closer to Ash and whispered in his ear: "If you tell this to anyone, I might have to kill you, but we Bardots are actually notorious criminals and that's why we had to flee from Bordeaux."

"Haha, very funny." Ash pressed his forefinger against Miles' forehead and pushed him, earning a cackle from Miles.

"Our godfather taught his followers many useful skills back in the days." Miles leaped away from Ash, when he tried to smack his head again. He had to lean his hands on his knees when he cracked up.

"Whatever." Ash shook his head and for a second it seemed like he was going to grin. He got it in control before anything could happen though, and just locked their arms, rushing Miles to follow him.

They staggered to a diner, which was eerily empty and had seen better days, but just happened to be the first restaurant they stumbled upon on their way to the centre. They conquered a boot near the grimy windows, and Miles ordered french fries and a large soda. When the food came, Miles pushed the tray towards Ash.

"You can have some, if you're hungry." Miles popped a fry in his mouth and leaned his back against the backrest of the blue leather couch.

Ash frowned, but accepted his share of the fries and the soda without further complaints. The tactic surely wouldn't work much longer, but until then Miles was going to put it to good use.

While they ate, silence fell over the boot. It wasn't awkward silence, not the kind you'd desperately want to fill, but a weary kind where they just needed a moment to breathe and get lost in their thoughts. And it felt good for a while, until Miles' thoughts started wandering back to his dad.

"Are you thinking about your dad?" Ash rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer, his chin against his palm. Miles let out a heavy sigh and, without even noticing it himself, clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into his palm. Ash correctly interpreted that as a yes and murmured: "Want to talk about it?"

Miles shook his head, even though he was dying to get it off his chest. He wanted to open up so bad, that keeping the words to himself was like swallowing back tears. It made his throat hurt and his chest tighten. No matter how much Miles wanted to trust Ash, it was too early to open up about his dad. Hell, he hadn't even told Benjamin, Judith or Jeremy Preston about him, and they had been working together for over a year.

"Don't do that." Ash frowned, earning a puzzled look from Miles. Instead of explaining what Miles wasn't supposed to do, he commanded: "Give me your hand."

Miles held out the hand he had been holding on the table, but Ash just shook his head and eyed his other hand. Miles unclenched his fist and allowed Ash to hold his hand over the table. Then, slowly, Ash turned the hand over, exposing the red half-moons on Miles' palm. Too late Miles realized what he meant and tried to pull away his hand, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

"That." Ash let go of Miles' hand.

For once Miles didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure what to feel either. So he just averted his gaze and took in a deep breath. Then he lifted his chin and plastered a grin on his lips: "We should probably get going."

Miles stood up before Ash could say another word and stomped to the cashier, paying the bill. Then he yanked the door open and breathed fresh air into his lungs. After the stale cooking oil smelling diner, even breathing the city air was pure heaven. Behind him, the bell over the door rang again and Miles could feel Ash's arm on his shoulder.

"I overstepped, didn't I?" He asked.

"No, it's not that.. You're fine." Miles turned to face Ash, and this time the smile on his lips was a genuine one. Ash still hesitated, pursing his lips together and furrowing his brows. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking like he wanted to say something. Miles nudged his arm and gave him a playful grin: "Come on, I need my daily dose of energy drink. My head is killing me."

"Are you sure it's just from the lack of caffeine and that the wine has nothing to do with it?" Ash followed after Miles, the worry melting from his face and relief evident in his voice. They started slouching toward a mall this time.

"The wine has absolutely nothing to do with the matter." Miles grinned and dug out his bottle to take another sip. He handed the bottle to Ash next and he followed Miles' example by taking a long swig from it.

The rest of the day and all the way to a late evening, they continued drinking and wandering around the city. Miles hadn't done anything like that since highschool and he had a feeling that despite his gruff demeanor, tattoos and bleached hair Ash hadn't either. He wasn't a troublemaker. When they drank, they did it in the comfort of their homes or in the night clubs.

But that day was an exception.

It was because of Miles' desperation, the frantic need to get his dad off his mind. Not just the things he had said and done that morning, but the fact he had had to endure that kind of behavior all his life and that there was no end in sight for it. The fact it made him feel like there was something fundamentally wrong with him, when nothing he did was ever going to be enough for his dad.

And there Ash had been, furious for Miles and telling him how wrong his dad was treating him. It wasn't a wonder why Miles was so reluctant to let him leave, when for once someone could see his pain and tell him that he wasn’t just overreacting or acting like an ungrateful little brat.

"Thank you for keeping me company today." Miles murmured, supporting himself against the open front door of his house. Ash narrowed his eyes at first and then leaned closer, swaying slightly on his feet. Miles had bought more wine for them, even after the voice of reason inside his brain had been screaming at him he didn't need a drop more. "Want to come in?"

"I really need to go, I have a morning shift tomorrow." Ash sighed and melted to the touch when Miles wrapped his arm around his waist. Ash pressed a slow, unhurried kiss on Miles' lips. "Did you have fun today?"

"Consider me entertained." Miles grinned and kissed Ash again before forcing himself to part from him. "Oh, and by the way, I can't really pick a lock."