Pushing the thought away, Miles dressed and went downstairs. The house was quiet. Zach and Tristan were likely still asleep. The others hadn’t arrived yet.
Miles didn’t bother with breakfast. He wasn’t hungry.
Slipping on his jacket, he headed out of the house.
The cold November wind made him wince. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to warm himself, but to no avail. He always was cold these days.
Miles walked aimlessly until he wandered into the local park. He walked for a while before he sat down on the bench by a small, picturesque pond. He stared at its still surface.
God, he wanted to stop feeling this way. It had been months. Why couldn’t he fucking move on? Why did it still feel like he was drowning and didn’t know the way up?
Miles closed his eyes.
The worst part was not knowing.
Was Ian all right? Was he still in a coma? Or was he…?
Miles bit his lip hard. He pulled his phone out and stared at it. He knew that if he Googled it, he’d know. Ian was important enough to be in the media if he—if he…
No, he didn’t want to know after all. Not knowing was better.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Miles’s gaze snapped up.
There was a bloke standing in front of him, a frown on his face. He was probably around Miles’s age. Brown hair, kind eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Miles said. “Why?”
The guy cocked his head to the side. “You seem very upset,” he said, taking a seat next to him.
Miles squinted at him. Although the guy didn’t seem like a creep, it was early morning and there weren’t all that many people in the park yet.
The bloke stuck out his hand. “I’m Harry.”
Miles eyed it warily before shaking it. It seemed rude not to, even if the bloke seemed a little strange. “Miles.”
“Nice to meet you,” Harry said, looking at him earnestly. “Why are you so upset? I could see how sad you were from across the pond.”
Miles should have told him to mind his own business.
But something about this bloke seemed so trustworthy and friendly that Miles ended up opening his mouth and telling him everything. Everything. He couldn’t deny that it felt good to finally talk about it—talk about Ian without any fear of being judged and pitied.
Harry listened to him quietly and didn’t even interrupt when Miles’s voice wavered as he told about Ian’s accident.
“I know it’s stupid,” Miles whispered hoarsely, staring at the pond. “I was going to leave anyway. We wouldn’t have been together anyway. It would have never worked out, even if he loved me. But—”
“It’s not stupid,” Harry said, his voice quiet. “I’m not from England. Last year I had to leave my boyfriend to go home because of some family problems. I thought I’d never see him again. It was… it nearly killed me, but I wanted him to be happy without me. I wanted him to live a long, happy life even if we never saw each other again. It’s what you want for the person you love.”
Miles bit his lip. He hadn’t even said the word love. Was he that obvious?
“Yes,” Harry said. “You’re very obvious. You should see your face when you talk about him.”
Miles made a face. If even a complete stranger could read him, he was hopeless.
“I wish I’d never gone to America,” he murmured, looking at the pond’s surface.
“Do you?” Harry said. “Would you want to forget everything that happened there?”
Yes, was Miles’s instinctive answer. He wished he could go back to being the person who left England half a year ago. The person who knew how to smile and mean it. Someone who was positive about life in general. Someone who didn’t feel like he’d break into tears at the slightest provocation. Someone who didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, his chest tight and his eyes wet. Someone who didn’t have trouble connecting to his own family. Who didn’t feel so detached. Cold. Hollow on the inside.
But.
But that person hadn’t known what it felt like to have his heart sing in another person’s presence. What it felt like to be in the arms of a man he was in love with. What it felt like to wake up in the safety of those arms as they exchanged lazy morning kisses and smiles. What it felt like to be the sole focus of those blue eyes.
“No,” Miles said, his throat so tight he could barely speak. “I don’t want to forget anything. I don’t want to forget him.”
Harry just nodded. Thankfully, he had the tact to look away while Miles struggled to get his emotions under control.
“You said he’s in a coma,” Harry said at last. “Is that because of a brain injury?”
Miles could only nod.
Harry hummed thoughtfully and didn’t say anything.
They stayed silent for a while. It was surprisingly comfortable.