Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Miles
M iles lay on his back with his hands clasped together over his slightly rounded belly and tried very hard not to dwell, but unfortunately, dwelling on things was one of his greatest strengths, much to the chagrin of his blood pressure.
He didn’t know what had gotten into him when he’d composed and sent that message to Jun, knowing full well that he was potentially exposing all his secrets and lies with a single sentence. The number of times he’d written and deleted the same words over and over was mortifying enough that he purposefully erased the amount from his mind, just so he’d have one less thing to chastise himself about.
But in the end, his wishy-washiness didn’t matter, because he had sent it, hadn’t he? It was over and done with now, and there was no sense dwelling on it. Worrying wouldn’t do anything but stress him out, and stress wasn’t good for the baby. For its sake, it was best he move on. It wasn’t like he could control what happened now, anyway.
If only his anxiety listened to reason.
Miles sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils, held it, and let it out slowly, but it didn’t help. He was just as anxious as before, his thoughts zipping through his head at a hundred miles an hour.
Maybe he had been too subtle, and Jun wouldn’t even realize that Miles had shown his hand. Their night together had been torrid and filled with frantic, heated passion, and it would be entirely reasonable if Jun didn’t remember him nervously rambling about pigeons eating stale croissants. Sure, the memory was seared into his mind as though he’d been branded with it, but that was because, even now, he occasionally thought about it and subsequently wanted to die from the astronomical levels of embarrassment the memory brought on, because why the fuck had he talked about pigeons to the guy he was trying to hook up with?
But was it really something someone else would remember?
Or, hell, even if Jun did remember, maybe he wouldn’t think of it as anything more than a coincidence. Miles was not the only person on the planet who occasionally saw pigeons on his windowsill.
But Jun was also not an idiot—quite the opposite, in fact—and given the rest of the clues scattered throughout their chat history, given how closely their stories aligned, Miles was fairly certain he’d be able to slide this confession into place and make out the picture in the puzzle. If Jun remembered suggesting they spend the night together to get a peek at the five o’clock pigeons, then it was almost guaranteed that he would know who Kilometers was, and who he’d been all along.
Miles wasn’t sure which possibility was more upsetting, so he dwelled on them both in equal measure, because, again, if dwelling were an Olympic sport he’d be toppling over from the weight of all the gold medals hanging around his neck.
Sighing, he unlocked his phone. Despite the fact that he dropped it on his face at an average of twice per week, he took the chance and held it up a few inches from his nose, just far enough away to keep his eyes from crossing as he scrolled through his text history with Jun. What he was looking for, he couldn’t say. He’d read it all so many goddamn times, and with the intensity and focus of a spy trying to decipher a nearly impenetrable code, that he knew there were no new revelations to be had, no matter how closely he read between the lines.
He was staring at the subtext beneath his final message from this morning, which said “Delivered 10:02 AM”—he never turned on read receipts because the concept, unsurprisingly, made him anxious—when a push notification suddenly came through, making his phone vibrate in his hand. He startled and dropped it on his face.
Grimacing and rubbing his nose, he picked his phone back up and, learning nothing, held it above his face again to see what the notification had been for.
Jun_iper is going live in fifteen minutes! it read, and Miles’s stomach plummeted.
The severity of his own disappointment surprised him. What had he expected? That Jun would read his message, have an epiphany, and make a beeline to the nearest airport to come be with him?
No, he told himself firmly, that would be insane. He wasn’t in a fairytale, nor was he in some romcom that ended with cleared-up miscommunications and tearful love confessions. He was living a life that was securely embedded in reality, and the reality was that Jun either understood his message or he didn’t, and either way, he hadn’t sent a response and was now going ahead with his own real life, where he was dedicated to his job, and not beholden to Miles, which was exactly how it should be. Wasn’t this what Miles had wanted? For Jun to accept that he deserved better than whatever he had to offer? This was the best outcome.
Sure as fuck didn’t feel like it, though.
Because he was apparently a glutton for punishment, fifteen minutes later found Miles sitting upright with his computer balanced on his lap as the stream began.
“Happy Thursday, everyone!” Jun said on the screen, his megawatt bulb of a smile making Miles’s heart ache as he thought about how this was the only way he was ever going to experience it again. “I’m in the mood for something light and cute today, so I picked out a fun one to try out with you guys. I know a lot of you have reached out, asking me if everything is okay because I haven’t quite seemed like myself lately, and I want to take this moment to thank all of you for your care and support. The truth is that I have been having a rough couple months, but I think I’m finally coming out of my funk. I’m feeling lighter than I have in a while, and that’s the energy I want to bring to the stream today.”
Feeling lighter than I have in a while. Miles couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by that. Or, rather, a lot hurt by it. Had his presence in Jun’s inbox really been so cumbersome that him saying goodbye had lifted a giant weight off Jun’s shoulders? He’d never meant to overwhelm him like that. He’d never meant to dump all his problems onto him.
He’d never meant for a lot of things to happen.
Still, Jun’s blatant upbeat attitude—at least in comparison to how he’d seemed during his most recent streams—felt like a slap to the face. Maybe he hadn’t understood Miles’s message, but was just so relieved to be rid of him that it changed his whole demeanor. Maybe he had understood the message, and the fact that Miles had lied to him for so long finally drove the point home that he had dodged a major bullet, and all his pining for his “mystery hookup” had evaporated in a flash, bringing him back to his normal self.
Either way, it didn’t much matter, because the message was clear regardless: Jun was better off without Miles in his life.
“—apologize, I’m having some trouble with the chat, so it might just be a one-way conversation today, but?—”
Miles didn’t hear whatever Jun said next, because he slammed his laptop shut and pushed it away from him with such malice you would have thought the device itself had been the one to slight him.
Tears burned hot in the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed at them angrily, berating himself for getting upset over the fact that Jun was simply following the advice Miles had given him. Jun was not to blame here—Miles had done this all to himself.
Unconsciously, one of his hands settled on his belly, and he looked down to where it rested against the cotton of his t-shirt. It was still too early for him to feel any movement, but the sickness, mood swings, and exhaustion made sure he was always keenly aware of what was happening inside his body.
He had his first doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and as scary as the whole prospect of parenthood still was—and it was very scary—he couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement of getting to see his baby for the first time on the ultrasound. Once he got a clear bill of health, he was planning on telling a handful of people. His mom, who was probably going to kill him for waiting this long to say something, and Miriam, who was almost like a second mom to him at this point. Others would find out in time, and as they did, he knew his support system would grow. He could do this. He would do this. He didn’t need Jun here with him to be okay.
He didn’t need him… but that didn’t mean he didn’t want him.
“The internet says you can’t hear me just yet,” Miles heard himself saying aloud, “but I think you’ll be able to understand me anyway. We’re sharing a body right now. If we can’t understand each other when we’re literally attached to each other, then I am shit out of luck when you reach your teenage years.”
He inhaled a shaky breath.
“I wanna preemptively apologize for all the inevitable mistakes I’m bound to make when you get here, but I hope you know I’m going to do my absolute best to make sure you have the best life you can.
“And like… it might be hard for you only having one parent, and you might wonder about who your other dad is sometimes, and I promise I’ll tell you about him someday, when the wound isn’t quite so fresh. I don’t want you to blame him for not being here for you, though, okay? Your other dad is a wonderful, wonderful man, but I screwed things up between us, so if you need to blame anyone, blame me.” He closed his eyes, a few tears escaping and trickling down the sides of his nose as he repeated in a whisper, “Blame me.”
This was it, then, he thought. This was where he was going to go from here. If he’d made different decisions, maybe it could have looked different, but he hadn’t, and now this was his mess to deal with. But it was going to be okay. He’d be sad for a while, sure, but that was okay, too. He was allowed to be sad. In fact, being sad was exactly how he wanted to spend the rest of his night.
Resolving himself to this fact, he detangled his comforter and sheets and prepared to drape them over himself as he curled into the fetal position like a pathetic little worm, but right as he was lowering himself down to the mattress, something interrupted him.
Someone was knocking on his door.
Miles froze.
Hovering in the air, head inches from his soft, warm mattress, he waited and listened, unsure if he’d been hallucinating—but then it happened again. Three sharp knocks on his front door as real as anything.
Someone was out there.
Someone who’d come to see him.
Stomach exploding with butterflies, he bolted upright and launched himself out of bed in a mad rush to get to the door. It was Jun. It had to be Jun. Never mind the fact that he was currently streaming from his home in Los Angeles two thousand miles away, Miles’s heart had overridden every ounce of logic he possessed and decided this impossible outcome was the only explanation. He wasn’t expecting anything, after all—well, anything that would come in the mail—and his friends and family knew better than to show up unannounced.
Somehow, someway, it was Jun.
Forgetting propriety and eschewing stranger danger, he flung open the door without checking the peephole to see who was on the other side?—
—only for his heart to drop into his stomach.
It wasn’t Jun.
Of course it wasn’t Jun.
It was Astrid. She was in her apron and had a box from the bakery balanced flat on her forearm. Had Miles not been so disappointed, he would have been confused—Astrid had no business being here. She was supposed to be on shift at work.
“Are you all right?” was the first thing he thought to ask, because why else would Astrid have come over if something wasn’t wrong? Then, “Is everything okay at the bakery?”
Astrid looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”
“The bakery.” Miles gestured behind himself at the window, through which the bakery could be seen. “You know, where we work?”
“The bakery is fine.” She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “The better question is if you’re okay. I was weirded out when you placed an order for delivery despite living literally across the street, but I figured there had to be a good reason for it. But now you’re acting weird, too. Do I need to get you medical help? Do you need an intervention? Blink twice if there’s someone in your apartment holding you hostage. I’m not gonna save you, but I can at least notify the authorities.”
Miles blinked more than twice. “I… didn’t order anything for delivery.”
“Yes, you did.” Astrid whipped out her cell phone and spun it around so the screen was facing him. On it was an order placed through their mobile system with his first name and address. It was for a dozen croissants. “It came through about forty-five minutes ago, prepaid with a huge tip and everything. If you don’t want them, I guess I can take them back to the shop and Miriam and I can snack on them or something, but they’re technically yours.”
She put her phone away and held the box out to him.
Befuddled, Miles accepted it.
Had he been so consumed with his own anguish that he’d blacked out and ordered croissants without realizing it? Or maybe it was Miriam. It was possible she’d figured out his secret and sent him the croissants as a message. He’d told her about his pigeons, after all, and what better way was there to tell your employee-slash-potential-someday-business-partner that you knew he had a secret bun in the oven than by making reference to the birds nesting on his windowsill?
God, everything was happening so fast.
He’d thought he’d still had time to let everyone know before it got too obvious, but it looked like he’d messed that one up, too. Would Miriam be disappointed in him for hiding it from her, or were these croissants happy and congratulatory?
All the uncertainty was giving him a headache.
He never should have gotten out of bed.
“Okay,” Astrid said with a shrug. “I’m going back to work now. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait.” Miles took a deep breath, knowing he would regret it. “Are you sure Miriam didn’t send these? Like, you didn’t see her doing anything ominous in her office or… acting weird, or anything? Because unless something really strange happened, I’m sure I didn’t order these.”
“You’re right,” said a voice from farther down the hallway. “My bad. I did.”
Miles’s eyes widened.
The voice belonged to Jun.
Grip on the box of croissants tightening, Miles popped his head out through the door to witness Jun—actual, physical Jun and not some sad hallucination—emerge from the stairwell as though by magic. Hands tucked casually in the pockets of his jeans, he met Miles’s gaze and smiled, and Miles very nearly crushed his box of croissants.
Jun was beautiful.
Not just because he was handsome, but because the joy radiating from him was so simple and pure that it seemed to make him glow. One look at Miles was all it took. One look and the melancholy, defeated Jun Miles had watched secretly on stream since they’d parted ways was gone.
Even though Miles had fucked it all up.
Even though Jun had every right to be angry.
He was here, and he was smiling, and the look in his eyes said the impossible—that he had forgiven him.
Had chosen unconditional love when it would have been so much easier to choose hate.
“Oh my god,” Miles uttered under his breath, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. “ Oh my god. ”
“I’m… obviously in the middle of something I shouldn’t be right now,” Astrid said, looking from Miles to Jun, then back at Miles. She took a large step to the side. “I’m just gonna… head back to the bakery. You guys enjoy those croissants, all right?”
Miles nodded, unable to bring himself to speak, and Astrid promptly disappeared, leaving him alone with the man he wanted more than anything, but whom he thought he’d never see again.
The man who was now walking down the hallway on his way to Miles’s apartment.
No—not the apartment.
On his way to Miles.
“I debated for so long over whether I should come here,” Jun said upon his approach. The light from the cracked window at the end of the hall streamed in and dappled his shoulders, illuminating him from behind. “I didn’t want to be the guy who showed up uninvited, so confident he could do no wrong that he couldn’t take silence for a ‘no.’ But someone on the internet told me I might have misread the signs—that maybe the reason you didn’t text or call wasn’t because you don’t like me, but because you think I deserve better.”
He arrived at the door, standing within arm’s distance.
When Miles didn’t back away or slam the door, he reached out and cupped Miles’s cheek, swiping a thumb tenderly across it to wipe away his tears.
“Let me decide what I deserve, Kilometers,” he whispered, voice strained by the weight of the emotion in his words. “Let me see what we can be when we’re together. Will you let me make things right?”
Miles squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out his unshed tears. His hands shook so badly, the croissants skittered around in their box.
For so long he’d been silent, sure that he was doing Jun a favor by staying out of his life.
But that hadn’t ever been true, had it?
Jun didn’t want anyone else. Might never want anyone else.
And Miles…
Miles couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t want Jun, either.
That these feelings—this heartache that had plagued him since Jun had left him all alone—weren’t the first stirrings of love.
His throat felt raw and his face numb, but he would be silent no more.
He opened his eyes, looked Jun in the face, and hoarsely replied, “Okay.”
Happiness burst across Jun’s face like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud. Slowly, giving Miles plenty of time to stop him if he wanted, he lifted Miles’s chin and brought their lips together in a kiss that spoke of everything he was feeling inside.
Excitement.
Elation.
Fear.
Hope.
And love.
So much love.
Miles trembled not because he feared it, but because he felt it, too.
Their story was only beginning, and like all stories, there would be bumps along the way, but with their hearts so well aligned, he already knew that in the end, everything would be all right.
“Last time I was here,” Jun murmured as the kiss concluded, their noses still brushing, “I had to bail before we could do breakfast, even though I wanted nothing more in the world than to stay. So how about we start by fixing my mistake?” He pulled back and gestured to the box clutched in Miles’s trembling hands. “You and me. Breakfast in bed. No interruptions. I prerecorded three fake live streams that are set to go live according to my usual schedule so no one—not even my asshole manager—will know I’m here. What do you say?”
For what felt like the first time in months, Miles laughed. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”