Milo
I PEERED THROUGH the viewfinder of my camera, my fingers aching from the cold.
The wind whipped through my hair, and I brought my knees up to my chest, pulling my oversized hoodie over my knees for extra warmth.
It hadn’t started snowing yet, but as soon as the sun began to set, the cold of the Canadian autumn was brutal.
Beyond the balcony’s glass door, Jasper shifted in the armchair and picked up his coffee, his gaze fixed on his laptop. At least fifteen minutes had gone by without so much as a glance in my direction, and I hated myself for being jealous of his schoolwork.
He wasn’t ignoring me on purpose, I reminded myself, turning the zoom ring and focusing the lens on his face.
His focused expression made heat rise to my cheeks, and I felt like a fucking peeping tom.
I loved seeing him like this—sharp angles, a frown that always seemed judgmental, his thick brows pinching together. I liked his intensity.
The shutter on my camera clicked a few times as I took more photos, still watching him through the viewfinder.
His eyes lifted from his work, sliding to meet my lens, and my heart skipped a beat.
He raised an eyebrow, and I instinctively took several more shots before he dropped his attention back to his laptop.
I set the camera down on the concrete next to me and then shuffled around until my spine met the glass. Only then did I start browsing the LCD screen, flipping through all of the photos I’d taken of him.
It felt good to replace all of the photos I had of Sofia. I had an unreliable memory thanks to childhood trauma, and photos were my lifeline. They were permanent—reliable when my brain was anything but.
I flinched as the balcony door slid open, rising to my feet and tucking my camera into the pouch in my sweater, like he hadn’t already seen what I was doing.
“Are you done?” I asked sheepishly.
“No.” Jasper shook his head, joining me in leaning on the railing. “Smoke break.”
I was already opening up my pack when he answered, sliding out a cigarette and putting it between my lips. He caught me by surprise when he leaned over and stole one before I could stuff them back into my pocket, his fingers brushing over mine.
What are we?
The question had been haunting me for days. Things were quietly changing shape. Neither of us got any closer to saying anything definitive out loud, but the things we did together had become bolder. Riskier.
His mouth would chase away the bad thoughts, but he’d never overstep the way he had the night of Blane’s birthday dinner. Maybe he was waiting for me to catch up, to meet him where he was. The only problem was that I didn’t know how.
I fumbled with my lighter, my thumb striking the spark wheel several times before I managed to get a flame.
He watched me take my first drag, and just when I was about to pull the cigarette out from between my lips and tell him he was weirding me out by staring, he dipped his head.
My stolen cigarette was in his mouth, the tip pressing against the glowing ember of my own.
My body was a stupid, useless thing. I had no control over the sudden racing of my heart or the fluttering in my stomach. The weather was cold, but I was burning up watching his cigarette light up in the scant space between us.
“You got something to say?” He blew a plume of smoke in my face.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “You’re weirding me out.”
“Seriously?” He frowned. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who was just sitting out here taking photos of me.”
I didn’t dignify his accusation with an answer.
“Yeah, exactly.” He bounced back with an amused smile. “You really are a brat.”
“You knew that already.”
“So what, you can complain, but I can’t?” He pinched my cheek softly, and instead of continuing the back-and-forth teasing, I pressed into his hand.
“Exactly.” I grinned.
“Have you been good?”
“Mostly,” I said casually, pulling away and flicking some ashes over the railing.
“No messaging your ex?”
“Nope.”
“No dating apps?”
“Nope.”
Jasper hummed in approval, his hand dropping down to my shoulder. He stroked my upper arm soothingly, his thumb rubbing into my sweater and over scars that hid beneath. He didn’t say it, but I knew he wanted to ask if I’d hurt myself at all lately. I hadn’t.
Things were really good right now. The apartment had finally stopped filling me with dread.
After a few shopping trips and rounds of visits to Mom’s, my barren space had started to feel like home.
The fridge wasn’t empty like it used to be, and Jasper’s things filled the space.
The shelves were lined with books, nerdy little trinkets, and posters that made it home.
He made it home.
Our routine was the same, but also different. Our mornings still consisted of the trademark brewing of coffee and comfortable silence, only now it was filled with nameless intimacy. Jasper’s gaze burned a little hotter, his touches lasted longer, and any time he was close, my pulse jumped.
The longer I thought about putting my feelings into words, the more fears came up. I’d had time over the last few days to really wonder what it would be like to be with my brother outside of these moments that felt like a big secret I couldn’t share.
How would the people around us react? Would they congratulate us, or would their perception of us as brothers make it seem too dirty and wrong? If he made me feel safe and loved, I knew it shouldn’t matter. But the shame weighed me down all the same.
And then there was the bigger problem. Me. I ruined every relationship one way or another, and the thought of destroying the only good thing I had was unbearable. All it took was one bad day, one manic episode, and I’d find a way to wreck it before I had a chance to get hurt.
Familiar hands crept around my sides, gripping my hips. My breath caught, and I closed my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t like it?” Jasper’s breath was hot against my ear.
Frustration coiled in my gut. “I don’t know what it is. You haven’t told me.”
Fuck.
I was already ruining it, the passenger in a car with no driver, headed for total wreckage. Why was I looking for a fight when he’d done nothing but give me what I wanted and needed at every turn?
Jasper walked me backwards until my back was against the balcony door. Behind his glasses, his brown eyes were dark and swimming with secrets.
“You told me to focus on you.” His voice was low, intimate.
“So you’re just doing this because I asked you to?” I accused, regretting the words as they fell from my mouth. Maybe that’s all these moments were, just a means to keep me from throwing myself off the edge. He was trying to keep me alive, not falling in love with me.
I was the one falling in love with him. Or more accurately, I’d always been in love with him.
It was something I knew but never acknowledged.
As long as I kept him at a safe distance, there was no way he would leave me.
If I kept that love locked up tight in a box labelled brother, I could fill in the rest with whoever gave me the most attention.
I wouldn’t be dirty. I wouldn’t be sick.
“No,” he said sharply. “I’m doing it because I want to.”
Panic crept up my throat, and my lower lip began to wobble. It couldn’t be so simple.
“Why?” I couldn’t resist the urge to tear it all down. If I just kept on pulling things apart, I’d eventually find a reason why he shouldn’t want this.
“Because I’d die for you,” he said it so simply. “I’d die with you if you asked. I’d dig a grave deep enough for the two of us and climb inside, if that meant always being with you.”
It was deeper than a simple I love you, and it terrified me so much that all I could do was turn it into a fucking joke.
“That’s pretty gay.”
But Jasper didn’t laugh.
“For once in your life, stop running away from what’s good for you. I’m telling you—”
Bzzt. Bzzt.
Jasper cursed under his breath, glancing at the intercom inside. I should have stayed and let him finish what he had to say, but I was already halfway through the sliding door. He grabbed my wrist and tugged, trying to pull me back over the threshold.
“Milo.” His voice was shaky, riddled with everything I was trying to leave unspoken.
The buzzing persisted, followed by a flurry of text message notifications ringing out in my pocket. Whoever it was thought this was urgent, and I needed to escape. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Jasper as I shook him off, slamming the balcony door in his face and barreling toward the intercom.
I always ran away. It started when I was twelve, cozied up in bed next to my best friend during a sleepover. He’d whispered that he liked me, and all I could do was freeze up and pretend I was already asleep, even though I’d liked him too.
He’d never brought it up again. Maybe Jasper wouldn’t either.
My heart pounded in my ears as I reached the intercom. “Hello?”
“Hey, uh, it’s me. Oliver.”
My pulse slowed. “What do you want?”
“To talk. Apologize.” He sounded sincere.
“You already did, like thirty times over text.” I glared at the little speaker on the wall.
“Please,” he begged. “Just hear me out.”
I dared to steal a glance at Jasper, who was still standing there on the balcony. His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tight as he leisurely put out his cigarette. I could go back out there and hear the rest of what he had to say, or I could run away from it.
“Okay,” I said quietly, buzzing Oliver inside.