Asymptote (bxb)

Chapter 2: Dependable

It wasn't until the class emptied that I noticed the bell had ringed at some point. Miles was leaning over my desk, impatiently waiting for me to pack up my stuff. Mr. Culan was long gone from the far portable since he coached our school's miserable excuse for a hockey team. All our teams were appalling; I felt worst for the cheerleaders since they had to cheer for them to increase school spirit- something that was non-existent which was easily proved by the empty bleachers.

"Want to hurry up?" He asked, placing a hand down on my next. I closed my textbook, ignoring the notes that flew out of it, and shoved it into my black backpack after sweeping all the other things on my desk into it.

"We're always last out because of you," he complained as I stood and slipped the strap over my shoulder. I chose not to respond, walking silently next to him. Miles was always terrible at reading people, so he never took silence as a bad thing, which was okay because I didn't constantly feel the need to answer.

When I reached out my hand to turn the door handle I felt his grasp around my wrist, forcing my hand back until it was pinned against the cool metal wall of the portable. His fingertips trailed from my palm to my elbow as his gaze flickered between my eyes and lips. I didn't close the distance between us, it usually freaked him out. He liked to feel as though he was in control. His grip tightened on my forearm and he pulled me forward, forcing our lips to meet. Not that I was resisting anyways.

I couldn't pin point the exact moment when I started looking at Miles as more than a friend. In truth, he was like a project, something that maybe I could fix- or at the very least help. I didn't expect to make him 'normal' or even hope for a relationship with him, though I did want one. But he withdrew from relationships; it made it easier because he could never get hurt. So it was just friends. Was he using my feelings for him? Absolutely. But it's not like I had people lining up at my door. It was the false comfort of a fictitious relationship with Miles, or nothing.

And so we kissed, like we had many times before.

He lips pulled away from mine for a second, whispering, "Don't tell anyone."

I yanked my arm from his grip and stared at him. "I never do," I said, aggravated. He said it every time, as if the one time he didn't I would go yelling it from the mountains. Usually I was able to tolerate it. That was how Miles was, scared. But not today.

He didn't say anything as I left the portable, or attempt to stop me. I went back to the school to drop my textbooks in my locker, and I couldn't help but peer over my shoulder to see him heading to the bridge. Most people would perceive it as to smoke, like all the teenagers did, but I knew that if you followed the path at the bottom it led to the infinite green field with the rusty bench.

I could be mad at him, or at least I could pretend to, until he called and then I would answer without hesitation. That was exactly what happened that night.

"Miles?" There was some noise in the background, him walking around and a door shutting. I could hear his heavy breathing.

"Mi?"

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled. I ran a hand through my hair. He never called me when it was something good.

"It's okay." I sat in silence, patiently waiting for his next words. He sighed into the phone and I bit my lip.

"I'm sorry about today. Can you come over?"

"Now? Is everything okay?" I asked, knowing full well that nothing was ever okay. Especially if he apologized. Miles never apologized; he just waited for people to get over it.

"Yeah, I'm just bored." He was just bored. That's the only reason he needed me, for fun. But I would be there in minutes regardless, because he had me so trapped that I couldn't even explain it.

"I'll be there in a bit," I huffed, rummaging through my room for clothes I could wear.

"Okay, I'll leave the door unlocked."

The call ended and I threw on a shirt I found in a basket of laundry I was hoarding in the corner of my room. I stuffed my phone into my pocket as I left my room.

"Gemma!?" I called up the stairs, only half expecting her to hear me. She was usually too immersed in her phone.

"BAILEY?!" She yelled back up. She liked to annoy people like that. She was sitting on the sofa in the living room when I hopped from the last stair to the floor. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me.

"I'm just going out. Do you want me to make dinner for you or order something before I leave? Parentals won't be home till late."

"Don't worry about me, I'm fifteen. I'll try not to burn the house down while using the toaster. Have fun," she said and shooed me out with a wave of her hand. I smiled meekly and grabbed my set of keys off the coffee table in case I was home late.

"Oh, and try not to have a rave inside the house while I'm gone."

"Damn, you ruin all my plans," Gemma drawled out sarcastically, flipping a strand of red hair.

"It's because you never invite me."

"Don't worry about me. See ya later, bro." She smiled brightly before unlocking her phone and scrolling through whatever social media site she was on.

"Bye, Gem."

His mother was passed out on the sofa when I got there. Miles said she was asleep, like he always did. He would always defend her, and he would never fight back, just take it- convinced that what he did was enough to deserve it. It was his normal though, and some days were good while others weren't. Miles never said his mother abused him, because in his mind it was always his fault.

"You know, if I lie and pretend to agree or like things, nothing happens. But I can't do it, which is stupid because it would be so much easier," he sighed, lying back on the bed. I fell back next to him and turned on my side so I was staring at him while he looked at the ceiling with furrowed eyebrows.

"It doesn't have to be like this, you can do something."

"What? Leave her and then one day I'll get the call that she decided to take 50 pills?" The first time it had seemed bizarre, you know, the fact that he could still care for her after all she did. But it was all he had; she was the only family he had ever known to the best of my knowledge. He had never once brought up his father. It seemed that Miles was an accident, ruined his mother's life.

"Just a few more months," I said hopefully, referring to graduation. I wasn't sure that he would graduate, or go to post-secondary, but he always said he would leave here after high school. Whether he would I had my doubts.

He nodded and turned so he was facing me. We stared each other down for a few seconds before I turned away, laughing.

And then he was hovering over top of me, waiting for me to say it was okay, to give him the affection and human contact he craved. I nodded a little and his hand was on my jaw while mine grasped his neck. Our lips didn't fit perfectly like two puzzle pieces, maybe we weren't made for each other, but we made it work nonetheless. I didn't know if he felt the same way I did when we kissed, if his heart stuttered and his thoughts raced. What I wouldn't give for a second inside his mind.

His hand trailed down my stomach to the waistband of my pants as mine caressed his chest. The kiss broke and he was breathing heavily on my cheek.

"You mean a lot to me, Bailey."

"Thanks," I replied hesitantly, because I didn't know what to say. 'I love you too' was not the correct response, especially considering what he said was meant to be platonic. Miles didn't believe in love, maybe because had never seen it other than between his mother and her bottles of pills. Even if he did, it wouldn't be reserved for me. I was just Bailey, the dependable. The only one that actually gave a damn that he didn't force out of his life.