Chapter Five #2
But even though he had, over the years, grown close to Miriam, the shop’s owner—to the point that she had mentioned on more than one occasion the possibility of offering him a co-ownership deal, to lighten her load and give him a chance at his dream of having his own bakery—he still hadn’t found the words to tell her what was going on.
Miles hadn’t told Enrique, the other baker, either, even though he always felt guilty brushing off his looks of concern when he’d disappear in a rush to the bathroom, or the few occasions he’d felt sick enough to ask him to cover the rest of his shift.
He hadn’t told Astrid, the freshman undergraduate student who worked the cash register, even though he tutored her in writing composition and had bailed on her twice now. He’d just given vague excuses.
He hadn’t told his little sister, or either of his older brothers. He hadn’t told his auntie, and hadn’t told his mom.
Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d even thought the actual words to himself yet.
Not really. He knew the… “condition” he currently found himself in, but instead of a thought he dwelled over constantly, it was more like a buzzing mosquito following him everywhere—something that he could hear at all times but could mostly ignore, until he was so itchy he had no choice but to stop and address the situation at hand.
But that would be a problem for future Miles.
The Miles of today wasn’t nearly itchy enough to face reality.
Right now, all he cared about was somehow finding words and putting them in the correct order to create some semblance of an adequate reply.
It hadn’t occurred to him that Jun might feel jilted.
He was so charismatic and beautiful, Miles had just assumed he would know that he was being ghosted because his hookup was the one who was inadequate, not because he was.
But he couldn’t very well up and say, “Well, you’re wrong and I know that as a fact, but don’t ask me how. ”
He typed, deleted, typed, deleted, typed, typed, typed, deleted, and typed some more, until he finally decided on what he was going to say.
x_kilometers_x: If I had any tips, trust me, I’d be using them myself.
Do you think they make some kind of antidote for this sort of thing?
You’re always doing those charity streams. Maybe you should find whoever is funding research into brain parasites and toss them some cash.
See if they can fix us. I’ll chip in what I can spare, but unfortunately I’ve got a lot of big expenses coming up soon.
The fate of our brains is on your shoulders, I’m afraid…
x_kilometers_x: On a more serious note, can I ask you why you think your feelings are unrequited? I mean, I know you said you left your number, but speaking on behalf of all socially anxious weirdos in the world, I could see it being entirely possible that he was just… Idk. Afraid, mb?
x_kilometers_x: Just a thought.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. With an early shift at the bakery on the horizon, Miles closed his laptop and sank into bed. He slept, but fitfully, and dreamed of Jun all night.
Jun replied two days later.
Jun_iper: Genius. I’ll call up the boys and we’ll get something going. Maybe I’ll put out another tasteful nudes calendar, too. Really kick things off. We raised mad cash for charity with the last one.
Jun_iper: And…
Jun_iper: Idk. I guess you could be right, but it’s not like I’ll ever know.
I don’t have his number, his socials, anything.
Not even his last name. I guess I could hire a detective to track his info down, but that’s high-key stalker behavior and I’m not about that.
I left him my number and figured if he was interested, he’d text.
But he hasn’t. I get being anxious, but he’s had time to sit with it, build up courage, find a friend to text me on his behalf… seems pretty black and white to me.
Jun_iper: I also don’t want to put pressure on him or make him think I’m obsessed, which, yeah, I guess I am, but it’s not like that gives me a right to go full psycho and demand he stay in touch with me.
Even if he doesn’t want me, I don’t want him to think I’m a bad guy, you know?
Someone who can’t take no for an answer.
His silence is his answer, and I need to respect that, even though I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anybody else in my entire life.
Jun_iper: Ugh. I’ve got it bad. I should probably see a therapist and stop dumping on you.
Which, btw, thanks for listening. I don’t really have people to fall back on when it comes to things like this.
It’s a weird place to be in, esp in my position, when you have to pretend you’re fine and everything is great all the time even when it’s not.
Jun_iper: I’ve just gotta… chill, I guess. Let it settle. Wallow. Get over it. Like you would with a typical breakup, only there was nothing there to break.
Jun_iper: I am like three seconds away from deleting this whole chain of messages bc they sound unhinged, so I’m putting down my phone now and taking my own advice.
Time to go chill. Lmk how you’re doing. I know it’s been a couple days but I’ve been thinking about you and hoping everything is going well
Everything had not been going well. He’d been as sick as ever during the day, to the point where Miriam had threatened to send him home despite the bakery being understaffed, and he still hadn’t found the courage to admit to himself what was going on, let alone to anyone else. But Jun didn’t need to know that.
x_kilometers_x: Fwiw, I’m glad you didn’t delete the message and am flattered that you felt comfortable enough to share that with me.
I had been thinking about you, too, and wondering how you’d been doing.
You’ve seemed a little down in your streams lately.
Is that creepy to say? That’s probably creepy to say.
I’m not like, psychoanalyzing you through the screen.
Idk, maybe I’m just projecting my own depression onto you just to make myself feel less alone, which as I’m saying it, really isn’t less creepy, huh?
Guess I should book another appointment with my therapist, too…
x_kilometers_x: I’m sorry this guy did that to you.
It sounds like he really messed with your head.
I don’t know if it would help, but I think I could probably provide a little insight to what his thought process might have been.
Without knowing him I obviously can only guess, but…
okay, you might think I am insane for this…
the guy I hooked up with? The one who I’ve been hung up on this whole time?
He gave me his number, like you gave your guy yours.
x_kilometers_x: AND I DIDN’T CALL IT!!!
x_kilometers_x: I know what you’re going to say, so let me say it for you: “You know, Kilometers, if the guy didn’t like you back then he wouldn’t have left his phone number.” I knowwww, okay?? But it’s not that simple.
x_kilometers_x: It’s like… even though I “know” it still doesn’t feel true, bc he was so incredibly out of my league, and even if for some reason he decided he didn’t care about that, I still have no idea what I have to offer him.
I don’t have an interesting job, I have nerdy hobbies, I have low self-esteem (in case you didn’t notice).
Why would he want to put up with that?? So I guess the reason I haven’t called him is bc it feels like the charitable thing to do.
Like I’m saving him from the mistake of being with me.
God that sounds so pathetic typed out like that, but it’s true.
x_kilometers_x: And then I guess I’m saving myself, too, bc if I never talk to him, then there’s no chance for him to get my hopes up only for him to decide he doesn’t want to be with me. I’m preemptively preventing heartbreak. Bc that’s normal and rational, right?
x_kilometers_x: Now which one of us is unhinged? (Hint: It’s me. Definitely me.)
x_kilometers_x: And it gets even more complicated than that, too, but we don’t need to get into that right now (or ever).
x_kilometers_x: Ugh. Whatever. The point of that whole rant was to tell you that I hope you know that it’s not because of you.
At least that’s what my assumption is. I think that whatever happened between you and this guy, it’s bc of his hangups and baggage, and not bc you did anything wrong, or even bc the feelings are unrequited. It’s hard out here for a scaredy cat!
x_kilometers_x: Okay, that’s it. Pressing send and running away bc I apparently have no shame anymore. Hope you’re having a good day!
x_kilometers_x: (Oh, and fwiw? Totally would buy one of those calendars…)
Miles wished he could blame his hormones for the tears in his eyes as he sent his message through whatever magic internet portal allowed it to reach Jun’s inbox, but he couldn’t do that for two reasons.
The first one was because he was still in denial, and the second was…
well, that it just wasn’t true. It wasn’t his hormones that had made a mess of things—he was the one who’d screwed everything up, and pretending to be Kilometers was only making everything screwier.
He felt bad about the word vomit he’d just shoved into Jun’s inbox (vomit was just part of every facet of his life these days, it seemed), but judging by the substantial lightening of weight on his chest, he had really needed to get that out into the open.
Even if Jun didn’t know he was talking about him, at least he had told him some version of the truth and finally acknowledged why he had done what he’d done.
It didn’t erase his actions, didn’t fix the problem, but it did make him breathe a little easier, and that wasn’t nothing.
Now if he could just figure out how to get the rest of that weight off his chest, he’d be golden, but accomplishing that would be a bit more complicated than anything he could achieve through a single DM.