Miles apart (Man × Man) ✔

44) c o m p l i m e n t e d

It was an old industry building, originally not meant for living. The kitchen was an eastern corner turned into a space suitable for cooking, furnished with an old fashioned oven, fridge, a row of cabinets and small kitchen table. All the furniture was patched up from flea markets and handovers from their friends. 

The worn wooden floor creaked under Ash's feet as he walked to Miles and hugged him from behind. It wasn't much of a house, but at least it was spacious and personal. One of the walls was all windows, letting in sunshine so bright that during the days the space basked in light. The walls were made of bricks, old and coarse against the skin of a palm. 

"It'll need some fixing, but it's not that bad." Ash pondered, looking around while holding Miles' back to his chest. Miles leaned on him, letting out a hum.

"I like it, it's edgy." He decided then, and Ash could hear from his voice that he was smiling.

Their friends had helped them to get the place liveable, but there was still a lot to be done. They needed to hang up the paintings, unpack boxes and make sure everything worked like it was supposed to work, but that could wait for another day. 

Instead, they ordered pizza with extra cheese and ate it on a quilt they spread on the living room floor. Ash sipped lukewarm beer, but as Miles was still not touching alcohol, he had an energy drink instead. They didn't have energy to fix the TV or dig up their laptops, so they didn't fill the evening with documentaries or reality shows.

That didn't mean the apartment was quiet, not by any means. A downstairs neighbor, whom Ash suspected to be a fledgling musician, was strumming a bass and it carried more than well to their apartment. On top of that, they could hear the steady roar of the traffic and the humming of an air-conditioner.

"I'm getting too old to sit on the floor." Miles complained and set his emptied can on the floor to stretch his sore arms and back. 

"It might have something to do with the way you sit." Ash pointed out, and drained the rest of his beer as well, placing his can next to Miles'. 

"What are you talking about?" Miles asked and a wide grin spread on his lips. He untangled his legs, which had been twisted in odd angles again and slumped to lay on the floor on his back. He lifted his arms over his head, then used his palm as a pillow. His white shirt was wrinkled and his hair had well grown out of its last cut, making his hair look even wilder than it normally was.

"Did you know you're beautiful?" Ash voiced his thoughts, moving away the pizza box to make them more room on the quilt. Miles snorted and covered his face with his hand, but not fast enough for Ash to notice the redness of his cheeks. "It wasn't a joke."

"Then I'm afraid you need glasses." Miles pointed out and rolled his eyes, a remnant of the grin still on his lips. Ash moved closer to him, slung a leg over his hips and straddled him. He stared down at Miles with a solemn look in his eyes.

"Enough with the self-deprecating jokes." He commanded and cupped Miles' cheek with his hand. The grin dropped from Miles' face and he answered Ash's gaze with a puzzled frown. With a grave, yet quiet voice Ash started lecturing to him: "Just take the compliment. I don't know if it was your dad or someone else who made you believe you're nothing less than smart and funny and beautiful, but they were wrong."

"Are you —" Miles began, smiling awkwardly, while his cheeks turned to a deeper shade of red. Ash knew he was making Miles uncomfortable, but he wanted to make sure he believed and understood how serious he was.

"I'm not drunk." Ash interrupted Miles, and lowered his hands on the collar of Miles' shirt. Slowly he unbuttoned the shirt halfway, revealing the pale skin of Miles' chest. He trailed his palms on his chest, then along his shoulders under the shirt and upwards, until he was holding the nape of Miles' neck.