Miles apart (Man × Man) ✔

41) i n f o r m e d

part three
falling together

"Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted."

– Sylvia Plath –

"Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together."

– Marilyn Monroe –

chapter forty-one
i n f o r m e d

A house is just a roof, walls and floor. Home is a feeling of belonging, of being welcomed and accepted as you are. Home is safety. To feel homesick doesn't necessarily mean missing a place, it is simply the need to feel secure and loved. After all, it is not housesickness that turns your chest hollow with longing.

And yet, that doesn't mean you couldn't miss a house. Even if it were a house where you never truly learned what it was like to be safe or welcomed. Even if it were a house where you only lived for a year or two. Even if the house never belonged to you in the first place. 

Packing all the items that made the house feel like, if not a home, a place where you lived in, was so much more than just saying goodbye to the roof, the walls and the floors. It was knowing that you were leaving a part of your life behind, giving up something that held so many memories. So many emotions.

For Miles, the apartment had started to feel like home the moment Ash walked into his life. The mornings they shared in the kitchen, making breakfast. The nights they spent cuddled up in the bed. The laughter and warmth Ash had brought with him. The friends sleeping on their couch and the children drawing in the living room, all those things had transformed the house to a home. 

Now they were forced to move out.

"How is it going?" Ash murmured and sat on the bedroom floor next to Miles. He placed a hand on the side of Miles' head before pulling him closer so that he could plant a kiss on his temple. Miles smiled wearily, looked up from the half-packed box and sighed.

"It's going." He answered plainly, not having the energy to explain all the mixed feelings he had about the move.

"It's going to feel like home, I promise." Ash told Miles, while helping him pack another box and taping it shut.

"I know it will." Miles agreed.

The past weeks had been a lot. All the commotion at Bardot Madden Co and trying to come to terms with Eliana's death had worn Miles down. Everything was changing and the not knowing scared Miles. It didn't matter whether the change was for better or worse, it still terrified him. Letting go and moving on had never been and would never be easy for Miles.

He thought back to the night after Eliana's funeral, and the way his heart had sunk all the way to the bottom of his stomach when he clicked open the article. The headline 'Harold Madden, a co-owner of Bardot Madden Co, exposes the financial hardships that forced the company to sell one of its headquarters' was enough to tell Miles all he needed to know.

It had been clear from the beginning that Anthony wouldn't admit Miles he wasn't doing as exceptionally well as he had purported himself to be. He was never going to admit he had made a mistake, because anything he did could never be less than perfect. 

And so Miles had to read it from the news: they had to take back the expansion they had moved in the city for a few years back. They would have no reason whatsoever to not move back where they came from.

Miles remembered calling his dad, with hands so shaky he could barely hold the phone, after reading the article. He remembered asking Anthony about it right away, and the blunt answer he got.

"Harold was never good with bookkeeping, so it was truly just a matter of time." Anthony's voice was stern, if not even avoidant.

"So it's true? You're selling?" Miles breathed, pacing around the living room while Ash was sleeping soundly, exhausted by the day's mental strain.

"Yes. I have also sold the house and we're moving —"

"Wait, we? And whose house are you talking about?" Miles could distantly hear the volume of his voice rising, while he raked a hand through his hair. He still paced around the room, fidgety and unable to stay still.

"Well, yours and —"

"You sold my house without asking me about it?" Miles let out a humorless laughter, not knowing whether he was supposed to laugh or cry. 

"Stop interrupting me." Anthony snapped, displeased by Miles' behavior and unable to understand why he was reacting so strongly to the news. "Don't forget it is technically my house. You'll have to give the keys to the new owners by the end of this month, but don't worry, I'll help you to move of course."

"I don't want to move. I have a job and a boyfriend here, my whole life is —" 

"You'll have a place in the company just like I've always promised you there would be and I've found you a house next to Daisy's. You'll forget all this nonsense you've been engaging with here, trust me, it'll be better there." Anthony interrupted Miles' objection, his voice composed like he thought Miles was being childish and would come to his senses soon.

"Nonsense?" Miles snapped. His head was throbbing, turning his sight bleary. He couldn't remember ever being so exhausted and fed-up with life as he was then. "Nonsense? When will you understand Daisy and I will never be a couple? I love Ash and I'm not leaving him just because —"

"I understand you're tired." Anthony's condescending voice interrupted Miles again. "We'll talk more tomorrow once you have calmed down. Good night."

Miles should have seen it coming, with all those warnings Daisy gave him. He should have stopped to think why his dad no longer took him to fancy dinners, but instead bought him smoothies. Why there were less galas to attend to, less business talk and boasting about the company. 

Except he had, he had known what was about to happen for some time now. He just hadn't thought it would happen so soon, so briefly after Eliana's death when neither him nor Ash was ready for another move.

After the call Miles had slipped under the blanket and nestled against Ash. He hadn't dared to wake Ash up, when he was already struggling to sleep, so the comfort of the touch had had to be enough. He hadn't cried, because there were no more tears left.