Archive of Our Own

“Let’s play a game.”

Alex giggles as he says it, drunk and bubbly from their evening, leaning forward and letting his hand land on Miles’ leather jacket covered arm. Miles is just as drunk and bubbly as him, and laughs, leaning into him before responding.

“What sort of game?” he asks. “If it involves leaving this hotel room I’m out.”

“No, no,” Alex protests. “No. A drinking game, obviously.”

As if they haven’t had enough already. They’re back in Alex’s flat after the NME awards where they’d won “Best Video” for a TLSP song and had far too much champagne, and are still all over each other, just now in the privacy of Alex’s home.

Alex is staring Miles straight in the eyes and though Miles’ instinct is to look away under such scrutiny, he’s held by the look on Alex’s face.

“What sort of drinking game?” he finally asks after what feels like an eternity of them watching each other. Alex hiccups and jumps up, digging around in a pile of books and pulling out his well-loved notebook Miles has seen a thousand times.

“Alright, don’t laugh,” he starts when he throws himself back down on the sofa next to Miles. “But. There’re these questions. These questions that if you answer with someone else… like, basically, they’re supposed to make strangers fall in love with each other.”

Miles snorted. “We aren’t strangers, Al.”

“Well, yeah,” he defended, shrugging his shoulders a bit and watching his hand on his notebook. He’s sure it sounds weird to Miles, wanting to answer questions meant to make people fall in love with each other, but their relationship has always been something more intense than just best friends, and Alex is honestly curious to see what will happen. “I just thought since we’re already so close... that it’d be interesting to get to know each other even more, or something. Funny. Bonding. I don’t know. We don’t have to.”

Miles sits for a moment. “What was the drinking part of this game then?” he asks after watching Alex fiddle with his own fingers for what may have been too long.

Alex looks up. He didn’t expect Miles to say yes, or at least not so quickly. He gives him a coy smile and lets the words fall from his lips before he can think about them. “Finish your drink if you fall in love.”

~

“Alright, question one,” Miles begins. Alex has handed Miles his notebook with the questions in it and they’ve moved so they’re sat cross legged, facing each other on the couch. Almost all the lights are off in Alex’s flat and rain is hitting the window gently. Miles has taken to this game much more readily than Alex expected, and he clears his throat dramatically before he starts speaking again. “Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

“Oh, that’s easy—”

“Wait, let me see if I can guess you answer,” Miles interrupts. It makes Alex laugh and sway a bit, more sober than he was when they got home but definitely still drunk. “You’d have… Julian Casablancas?”

“Yes, I would,” Alex smirks. “And you… would have John Lennon.”

“You are correct, Turner,” Miles smiles, passing Alex the notebook for him to do the next question.

“This’ll be good,” Alex mumbles as he reads over the question. “Two: would you like to be famous? In what way?”

Miles bursts out laughing.

“What an appropriate question for us,” Miles giggles once he’s calmed down a bit. Alex snorts. “I mean… yes, for me. I want to be famous. I’ve always wanted to be the front man, so. Yeah. Yes. I like that sort of attention.”

Alex blushes when Miles winks at the end of his answer and looks down at his hands. “I’d say no,” he finally says. “I don’t like the eyes on me and all the pressure. It makes me go a bit crazy, I think. But it’s sort of my life, and I want to make music more than I don’t want to be famous. I don’t know. I’m grateful for everything the Monkeys and I have, but this isn’t my ideal way of living.”

“You are much more reserved than I am,” Miles says.

Alex sighs. “Sometimes I feel like if we swapped positions in life, we’d both be happier,” he adds. “But, like. It’s what it is.”

“Very blasé way to say you wish your life were drastically different, Al.”

Alex smirks a bit and just shrugs, not making eye contact. He hands the notebook back to Miles to signal they move on to the next question, which Miles understands instantly, picking up that Alex doesn’t want to be pressed on this.

“Okay – three: before making a telephone call, do you rehearse what you have to say? Why?” Miles places the notebook on his lap and looks up at Alex. “No. I never really even thought about doing it. Just seems time consuming, I suppose.”

“Time consuming,” Alex snorts. “I don’t either, though. Seems a bit mad to rehearse a phone call.”

Miles laughs and grabs at Alex’s arm. “But you are a bit mad.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Settle, you,” he says, raising an eyebrow and shrugging Miles off him. “Four: what would a ‘perfect’ day constitute for you?”

“Oh, alright,” Miles jumps in, suddenly much more animated than moments before. “A perfect day for me is Christmas at home, cooking with me mum and my childhood family friends; it’s bright and crisp outside, the house smells like sugar, I’ve got my softest jumper on and tea in my hands.”

Alex smiles widely at Miles, endeared by his instant response and once again swept up in Miles’ way of speaking. “You were ready on that one,” he teases. “I love that you love Christmas with your family so much. It’s sweet.”

“I’m a momma’s boy,” he laughs. “What about you?”

Alex hums and thinks for a moment. “I don’t know, really. I guess… a perfect day for me would just be a stress free one spent with someone I love. Listening to music and going for a walk, maybe. And it has to be sunny. The day can’t be perfect if it’s raining.”

“Sounds lovely,” Miles whispers. They’re both thinking it, but neither say that Alex’s description of a perfect day is exactly what their time making an album was like, and what many of their days together are. Miles simply moves to the next question before Alex can dwell on what he’s just said. “Oh, I like five – when did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?”

They look at each other and stare for a moment before bursting out into another rendition of Standing Next to Me, like they had earlier when they were being interviewed at the awards show. Alex feels his heart flutter a bit at the way Miles sings the words “your love,” eyes locked on Alex’s, and he desperately ignores the feeling, laughing along with Miles when they reach the end of the chorus.

“So that answers that,” Alex says, laughter still bubbling out of him. “Six: if you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”

“Body,” Miles says without thought at the same time Alex says “mind.” Alex looks at Miles with shock in his eyes.

“Really?” he says.

“I’m shallow, what can I say,” he jokes. “I knew you’d say mind.”

Alex shrugs. “I’m predictable, what can I say.”

Miles smirks and glares playfully at him before reading the next question. “Seven: do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

“I don’t really,” Alex says quietly after a moment, clearly still thinking. “I mean, I worry about getting my grandparents’ health problems, but, like, I don’t… I don’t have a ‘hunch,’ really. I don’t try to think about how I’m going to die often, or ever, honestly.”

“Me neither,” Miles agrees. “As a kid I always thought I’d die in a car crash, though. Maybe that was why I never wanted to learn how to drive.”

“Ooh, look at you psychoanalyzing yourself, Mi,” Alex teases. “I hope you don’t die in a car crash. That would be a very rock and roll way to go, but it’d make me too sad.”

“I don’t ever want to do anything to make you sad,” Miles says, meaning for it to be light and joking, but something in his tone catches Alex’s attention, and Alex’s gaze lingers on him for a moment.

He blinks a couple times and looks sharply back down to the notebook between. “Uh, so, eight: name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.” Alex scoffs. “Oh, this’ll be so easy.”

“We like the same music,” Miles answers first.

“We both play in a band,” Alex follows.

“And…,” Miles starts. Him and Alex lock eyes and then both speak at the same time. “Our mums have the same biscuit selection!” they shout together, falling into yet another moment of giggling and leaning into each other.

Alex turns the notebook back to Miles. “Okay, okay. Next.”

“Nine: for what in your life do you feel most grateful?” Miles reads. “I’d say just… the opportunity to make music and, you know, perform as a full time job.”

Alex is silent for a moment. “I was going to say for the success I’ve had with the Monkeys,” he starts. “But, really, I’m most grateful for the fact we met.”

Miles smiles at him, reaching over and twining their fingers together. “That’s a much better answer. I’m stealing it.”

Alex giggles and tightens his grip on Miles’ hand. “I’m touched,” he whispers. Their eyes lock for a moment too long. This is yet another instance where Alex feels like there’s something floating between them, unspoken though very much present, but it scares him a bit too much to actually think about it, and so he breaks their eye contact and pulls his hand back to read the next question. “Ten: if you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

“I always wished I had siblings,” Miles says gently. “Being the only child of a single mum was a bit lonely, if I’m honest.”

“You’re the most charismatic person I know,” Alex protests. “I can’t imagine you having any trouble making friends as a kid.”

Miles cocks an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised,” he says cryptically. “What would you change?”

Alex thinks for a moment before he answers. “Not anything huge. I guess I would change the timing of when I got into music. And I wish I’d kept up with piano longer as a kid. I always had Matt, so I never really felt the loneliness of being an only child; he’s been a brother to me as long as I can remember. I don’t know, though. Music, I’d say, yeah, is my answer.”

Miles nods and glances back down to read Alex’s sloppy handwriting. “Eleven: take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible,” he reads, before scratching at his hair and looking back to Alex. “Do we need to do this one? I feel like I know your life story, and you know mine.”

“Eh, I mean, we don’t have to,” Alex mumbles. “You keeping something from me?”

“Fuck, no,” Miles retorts. “I’m just too drunk to think about my life like that.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a lightweight,” he teases. “But fine. We’ll skip it. Twelve: if you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?” he puts the notebook back down. “I’d want to be able to speed read.”

Miles bursts out laughing. “Of course you would,” he chuckles. “I’d want to be a master guitar player. You probably could’ve guessed that one.”

“I could’ve,” Alex replies, smirking. “So that’s… that’s the first set of questions. There’s three, and I think we’re maybe supposed to do something between each set, but I really gotta piss, so I’ll be right back. Drink some water while I’m gone, you sloppy drunk.”

“Hey,” Miles whines. “Don’t act like you aren’t just as drunk as I am.”

“And yet which one of us can’t remember their childhood right now?” Alex leans in towards Miles, poking at him. Miles just rolls his eyes and falls back onto the couch.

“Whatever,” he says, muffled beneath his arm which he has now thrown over his face. “Go piss. I’m gonna take a quick nap while you’re gone.”

~

When Alex returns, glass of water in his hands for the two of them, Miles is still lying on his back with his eyes closed and having shed himself of his leather jacket and sunk into the cushion a bit. He looks incredibly comfortable, and Alex almost doesn’t want to wake him. He takes off his own jacket and lies down right beside Miles, placing the glass down on the table before pushing at Miles a bit so he’ll hopefully get the hint and make room.

“Mmm,” Miles hums when he feels Alex press against him. He instantly turns and throws an arm around Alex. “You’re warm.”

Alex is warm, both from being drunk and from full body blushing at the way Miles is treating him. He’s used to Miles being affectionate with him; the two of them are always touching, but that doesn’t mean the effect of Miles’ body against his like this ever lessens.

“I brought water,” he says after a moment of letting Miles slump into his shoulder and curl around him. Miles groans and then sits up to take a long swig of water, returning to his place around Alex afterwards.

“So what’s next,” he whispers, his breath tickling Alex’s neck. Alex feels like he’s on fire as he reaches over to the table for his notebook.

“Erm, there’s more questions,” he says. Miles’ breathing is getting slower and deeper by the second. “Miles, you can’t fall asleep on me yet.”

“Fine,” he pouts as he sits up a bit, detaching a little from Alex in the process. Alex has to bite his tongue to keep from asking him to come back so they can keep cuddling like that, even though they’re still very much pressed against each other.

Alex runs a hand through his hair and exhales, trying to push the urge to lean back into Miles out of his mind before reading. “Thirteen: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“Oh,” Miles exhales. “These are getting more intense.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. They both think for a moment before Alex answers first. “I’d want to know how things turn out. Like, how I turn out. If I have a rock star breakdown or if the band and I keep doing this forever. I feel like I’m running on empty as is sometimes. I want to know if I last, as morbid as that sounds.”

“I think you will,” Miles says gently, twirling a strand of Alex’s hair with his finger. “You’ve got your head screwed on tight, and you always have me to talk to, if you need.”

“I know,” Alex says instantly. “What’s your answer?”

“I’d want to know about my sexuality,” he whispers. Alex did not expect him to say that at all. Sexuality is something they’ve never really talked in much depth about; it’s come up very briefly a couple times, always from Miles, but neither of them have ever referred to themselves as any specific label, and have only dated women, so the topic doesn’t arise often.

“Wow,” Alex breathes. “That’s… like… in what way? What would you want to know about it?”

Miles purses his lips and continues to twist that stand of Alex’s hair around. “I guess… what it is, so I don’t have to figure it out for myself. Cause I know I’m… like, I’m not… oh, I’m nervous, Al,” he stumbles. Alex has never heard Miles this nervous to say something to him.

“It’s just me,” he says, trying to comfort. “You can tell me anything.”

Miles nods once. “I know I’m not straight, but I don’t know what I am, you know? I’m not straight because I’m into blokes, but I’m not gay because I’m into birds, and I know that, like, bisexuality is a thing, but I just feel… I’m nervous. It feels different with blokes, and it scares me a bit, honestly. Sometimes I feel like everyone except me knows it, but I would love for some magic crystal ball to tell me once and for all what I am so I can rest easy at night.”

“Me too,” Alex says so quietly Miles barely hears him. He feels Miles stiffen against him.

“Really?” he asks. “I thought you were straight as an arrow, Al.”

“I don’t know,” Alex mumbles. “I try not to think about it. But. I don’t think I am. Think I might like an answer as well.”

Miles is silent for a moment before letting go of Alex’s hair and instead wrapping an arm around the back of his shoulders, pulling Alex into his chest. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Alex insists. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told that to.”

“I’m honored,” Miles says, resting his head against Alex’s. “What’s fourteen?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex looks back down at the notebook. “Fourteen: is there something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

Neither of them says a word. Silence between them, though rare, is always comfortable, but the silence hanging over them right now feels heavy and caving. Miles feels himself sober up immensely, but at the same time his head is spinning as he focuses on Alex, warm against him, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breathing he’s now privy to that they’re both dead silent. He’s still drunk, though, and so he answers with what he’s actually thinking.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” Miles finally says. Alex is frozen. “But I never did because I thought you were straight, and even if you aren’t, I wouldn’t want to fuck up our relationship.”

It feels like the earth stops turning after Miles finishes speaking. Alex’s heart is racing, and he’s sure Miles can hear it where he’s resting his head against Alex’s shoulder. Miles doesn’t move a centimeter after confessing that, and so Alex tries to continue and ignore the fact he wouldn’t mind at all if Miles kissed him. He’s too drunk for Miles to have said this; his self-control is low right now and if Miles pushes what he’s just said Alex knows he won’t be able to resist. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.

“Well, uh,” he starts, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’ve always wanted to write music for a film, or something like that. Just haven’t had the chance to.”

Miles hums. “Right,” he says curtly. Alex wants to melt into the couch. Miles is still wrapped around him and the proximity is driving him crazy. “Fifteen, then. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“Oh, the first Monkeys’ record, without a doubt,” Alex answers barely a second after Miles finishes asking the question.

Miles smiles. “You should always be proud of that,” he says with a warmth in his voice that makes Alex’s palms a little clammy. “As weird as it sounds, I’d say my biggest accomplishment is having the courage to break off with the Little Flames.”

“I get that,” he whispers. “I know it was hard to do, but it was the right choice. I’m proud of you for it.”

“Thanks, Al,” Miles says softly. “I like the next one. You read it.”

“Sure,” Alex agrees and leans into Miles as he reads the question. “Sixteen: what do you value most in a friendship? Ooh. I.. like, hm. I value how comfortable I feel with someone. Which is why I value you so much, Mi. No one makes me feel more comfortable than you.”

Miles smiles into Alex’s hair, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “Well, in the same stroke,” Miles begins. “I value someone who understands me, or at least puts in the effort to try. And no one gets me more than you do, Al.”

“Guess that’s why we’re best friends, isn’t it,” Alex says in a joking manner, even though he’s dead serious. His heart still hasn’t fully slowed back down to its normal rate after Miles’ answer to question fourteen, and this moment certainty isn’t helping. Miles wrapped around him like an octopus definitely isn’t helping either.

“Seventeen: what is your most treasured memory?” Miles reads, moving on. “Definitely the time we spent in France recording.”

“I was going to say the same,” Alex smiles brightly, thinking back on said memories. “Specifically, that one day we went biking and laid in the sun all afternoon.”

Miles hums. “That was a lovely day,” he says, and then thinks for a moment. “I can’t pick. I treasure every moment of those weeks we had equally.”

Alex thinks he might literally catch aflame soon if the questions continue the way they’re going. Part of him wants them to continue down this road and push at Miles’ statement about wanting to kiss him, but just as much of him is petrified and needs this to slow down so his heart rate can return to normal.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he reads the next question. “Eighteen: what is your most terrible memory?”

“Oh, god,” Miles instantly begins. “I broke my leg and my arm at the same time as a kid by falling out of a tree. It’s still, like, the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. Awful memory. Never looked at that tree the same way again.”

“Ouch,” Alex sympathizes. “Sorry about your arm and leg,” he says, and then instantly starts kicking fake aggressively at Miles’ shin. Miles yelps and pulls his leg away playfully, but since they’re sat so close on the couch it’s not like they can get much space from each other.

“Don’t attack me where I’m weak,” he whines, wrapping his other arm around Alex’s front so as to trap Alex’s arms to his sides. “Cruel. Very, very cruel of you.”

Alex is just giggling at him, flushed as he looks over Miles and processes their proximity. “So sorry, my dear,” he jokes. “I’ll let you heal. My worst memory is probably one of our first shows, I was scared shitless about going on, and my girlfriend of the time was pissed at me about something I don’t remember. First anxiety attack I’ve ever had was that night, though.”

“I’m sorry, Al,” Miles says, letting his thumb rub across Alex’s shoulder.

“No, it’s fine,” Alex insists. “It was a long time ago. I’m alright, you know that.”

“If you say so,” he whispers into Alex’s hair. “Okay, gimme. Nineteen: If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”

“Uh, well, yeah,” Alex mumbles. “I would.”

Miles waits a moment to see if he’ll elaborate, and when he doesn’t Miles just hums and agrees. “I don’t think there’s anyone who wouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Alex says in barely a whisper. The air suddenly feels too heavy again. He doesn’t know why he thought this “game” would go any way other than this, as all it’s predictably doing is making him anxious and pushing him into the corner he tries so hard to stay out of for fear of having to confront hard truths. Well, not really hard truths, but things he’s scared to face. He stands up, abruptly forcing Miles to let go of him, and grabs the now empty glass he’d brought over. “Need a minute,” he says tersely as he stalks into the kitchen. Miles just stares as he leaves the room.

Miles exhales dramatically and runs his hands over his face the second Alex is out of sight. His palms are still a bit sweaty from telling Alex he wanted to kiss him and then having nothing happen. Alex has been acting weird, and he worries it’s because he crossed a line. Alex’s admission of not being straight and the way their relationship has always been led Miles to believe he wasn’t imagining the feeling between the two of them, but the last thing he’d ever want to do is lose Alex. He’d rather never play guitar again than lose Alex over this desperate crush of his.

After Miles determines Alex has been gone too long, he stands up shakily and goes to follow him into the kitchen. Alex is standing with his hands on the sink, eyes shut, and for a moment Miles is worried he’s about to throw up. When he hears Miles’ footsteps he instantly glances up, face flushed red and wide eyes glossy.

“Are you alright?” Miles asks, approaching Alex and tentatively putting a hand on his back. “Are you going to be sick?”

“No,” Alex answers shortly. Miles isn’t sure which question Alex is responding to.

“Was it something I said?” Miles prods. Alex shuts his eyes and sighs.

“No,” he says again. “No, it wasn’t anything you did. I’m—I’m being drunk. And dramatic. Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute.”

If only Miles knew that Alex is freaking out because if he were told he had a year to live, he’d tell Miles how he truly feels, even if he doesn’t quite understand it himself, and spend each one of his last moments attached to his side. And though Miles said he wanted to kiss him earlier, Alex has convinced himself Miles was simply figuring out his sexuality and projected his feelings onto Alex since they were so close. It didn’t mean anything. Miles would never like him like that, he feels with a finality that makes his heart sink.

Miles purses his lips and then pulls Alex into his arms. Alex melts instantly, gripping Miles’ shirt tightly and pressing his face into his shoulder. After a moment, Alex seems to flip a switch and lets go, smiling at Miles before turning and walking back to the couch in the other room. Miles stares after him again, not moving and just watching Alex walk.

When he does make it back to the couch, Alex is lying back on the arm of the couch, legs spread across the cushions. Miles picks up his legs and sits down so Alex’s legs are now resting across his lap. Alex just smiles again.

“So, moving on,” Alex says normally, as if the last ten minutes didn’t happen. Miles doesn’t know how to react. He never does when Alex is like this. “Twenty: what does friendship mean to you?”

Miles watches his thumb run across Alex’s jean clad knee and just smiles a bit. “It means… having fun with someone. Wanting to spend your time with them, and, like… enjoying each other’s company.”

“It means being able to communicate for me,” Alex says. “Someone I can be myself with.”

“Do you feel you can be yourself with me?” Miles asks bluntly. He doesn’t know what makes him say it, as he knows the answer, and the look on Alex’s face tells him Alex knows he knows the answer.

“Of course,” he furrows his brows in that endearing way that always makes Miles want to run his fingers over the wrinkles on his forehead that appear when he’s pouting or confused. “More than anyone.”

Miles just presses his lips together and nods, not looking at Alex as he takes the notebook from Alex’s hand. “Twenty-one: what roles do love and affection play in your life?”

“A big one,” Alex responds sheepishly. “I don’t really know what to do when I’m not in a relationship. Or, like, what to write songs about.” He chuckles dryly. “I like… being in love, though. Gives me purpose. Something to put my energy into.”

“Guess I’m rather the opposite,” Miles replies after a moment. “I feel like being in love takes all my energy. Not in a bad way, but it just does. I do like being loved, though.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” Alex giggles, gently kicking Miles’ thigh until he looks up and makes eye contact with Alex. “I love you,” he says once Miles is looking at him, eyes full of something Miles can’t quite place.

Miles smiles warmly at him. “I love you, too.”

Alex hums and snatches the notebook. “Twenty-two is alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. I’m ready for this one.”

“You wanna go first then?”

“Yes,” Alex says immediately. “You’re very friendly. And funny. I don’t think there’s ever been anyone who’s met you and not liked you.”

“That was, like, three things, Al,” Miles laughs. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. The way you think about things never fails to amaze me.”

“You’re the most creative person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re the most creative person I’ve ever met,” Miles shoots right back. Alex just rolls his eyes and blushes.

“You’re the best performer I’ve ever seen,” Alex says with a look in his eyes that makes Miles’ legs feel like jelly. “An absolute legend.”

Miles scoffs. “You... you’re the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

Miles’ hand is now resting fully on Alex’s knee, and the warmth of his palm against Alex’s jeans makes him want to squirm. If they keep going like this Alex thinks he might genuinely implode; the way Miles is paying attention to him right now is almost too much to bear.

“Do the next one,” he says as he tosses the notebook back to Miles. Miles raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

“Sure, then. Twenty-three: how close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most people’s?” He pauses. “I mean. That’s hard to say, since my dad left my mum and I when I was little. I wouldn’t say I had a sad childhood, though. My aunt and mum were always around, and I was well cared for. The family I do have definitely is close and warm; I wouldn’t be me without them.”

“Your mum is an angel,” Alex smiles warmly. “I feel like… my childhood was just… it was just something that happened. I’m definitely closer to my parents now, especially me mum, than I was when I was younger. Which is nice.”

“Your mum is also an angel,” Miles parrots.

“Honestly think she loves you more than she loves me,” Alex says jokingly. “Asks about you more than she does Alexa, too.”

Miles laughs briefly. He’d forgotten all about Alexa for the time being, as she was in New York and Alex hadn’t mentioned her at all up until this moment. Miles goes weirdly quiet, and so Alex takes it upon himself to read the next question.

“This one’s the last of the second set, so. We can do something else if you—”

“We have to finish now,” Miles interrupts. “What is it, thirty-six questions? And we’re on twenty-four? Never knew you as one to quit halfway through, Al.”

Alex opens his mouth in mock offense. “I’m not a quitter,” he pouts. “Fine. Let’s keep going. Twenty-four: how do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”

“Oh, I love my mum,” Miles says instantly. “You know that. I talk to her all the time. She’s, besides you, the person I feel closest to.”

Alex stomach flips at Miles’ words. He obviously knows he’s one of Miles’ closest confidants, but hearing him say it always, always makes his heart race for a reason he knows but doesn’t want to admit to himself.

“I love my mum, too,” Alex answers after a moment. “She’s helpful for songs, surprisingly. And a great cook. I always feel so good when I’m home because she just pumps me full of homemade meals and sweets.”

“Mm, I’d almost forgotten about Penny’s lemon chicken,” Miles hums. “I’m fucking hungry now. Do you have anything?”

Miles is off the couch and moving into Alex’s kitchen before Alex can even open his mouth to respond, instead just resolving to watching Miles and then listening to him rummaging through Alex’s fridge and cupboards as though he lives here just as much as Alex.

Miles is the one person Alex doesn’t feel oversteps boundaries, though. In fact, Miles is the only person who could never outstay their welcome in Alex’s mind. For a moment he closes his eyes and loses himself in his thoughts, and he pictures him and Miles doing this, being together, domestic and comfortable, for the rest of their lives. He’s got butterflies in his stomach as the thought of being with Miles invades his mind and sinks into his bones. It’s gets harder and harder to ignore how he feels by the second, and Alex has a feeling that he’s not going to make it to the end of the questions before he has to finish his drink.

~

“Twenty-five: make three true ‘we’ statements each,” Miles reads as they begin again, having taken a moment to change into t-shirts and sweatpants and shed themselves of their tight jeans. Alex absolutely hates himself for the way he can’t keep his eyes off Miles’ collarbone, which is fully visible thanks to the loose, worn out neckline of his sleep shirt. “I’ll start,” Miles says, snapping Alex out of his trance. “We were both wearing leather jackets earlier.”

“We are in a band together,” Alex says after. Miles smiles at him in response, and Alex feels his lungs falter for a moment.

“We have similar mums.”

“We’re both only children.”

“We write music the same way,” Miles says. “Hence, why we are in a band together.”

“We… we both…,” Alex struggles for words. Miles’ eyes are locked on him, as they have been since the “we” statements began, and Alex can’t think. He wants to say, “we both feel something more here,” or something in those veins, but it’s supposed to be true statements, and Alex is positive he’s projecting his feelings onto Miles and that he’s making things weird. Something in Miles’ expression makes Alex want to say it so badly, though. Instead, he blurts “we are both drunk right now,” feeling his entire body relax when Miles bursts into laughter and throws his head back.

Once he stops laughing, he looks back at Alex, who’s smiling just softly enough that Miles thinks he’s not even aware he’s doing it. “You read the next one.”

“Oh,” Alex mutters, his face falling back to its neutral state. “Um. Okay. Twenty-six: complete the sentence, ‘I wish I had someone with whom I could share…’”

They both go quiet for a moment. Alex picks at a hangnail and Miles just watches him silently, with shoulders slumped in on himself and hair almost covering his eyes from Miles’ view.

“I wish I had someone I could talk about my… confusion with,” Alex mumbles. “Like, about my sexuality and all.”

“You know you have me,” Miles counters instantly in a soft voice that makes Alex melt.

“Yeah… yeah, I know,” he says hesitantly. “I just… like, I don’t even really know how to talk about it. And I worry if I try to I’ll say the wrong thing, or make it weird. I wish you could actually read my mind, Mi.”

Miles smiles a little. He’s trying to process what Alex has just said; though Alex brushed past his mention of wanting to kiss him earlier, he’s been acting strangely, and Miles still worries it’s that he made Alex uncomfortable by saying that. But at the same time, he knows exactly what Alex means. The reason he’s never mentioned his own confusion regarding his sexuality to Alex is because he worries it will give the wrong impression – that he’s interested in Alex, and he’s worried it will freak Alex out. He is interested in Alex though, he knows that with certainty even if he may not understand his sexuality generally well enough yet, and Alex mirroring his own fears makes him think maybe he is reading Alex’s mind after all.

“I know what you mean, Al,” he finally replies. “I wish I had someone I could share that with, too. Funny we both say that.”

“Yeah,” Alex utters, barely more than a breath. “Miles, I…”

He trails off when Miles glances up to meet his eyes and he loses his nerve. He suddenly can’t remember what he wanted to say; words have left his mind and his mouth has gone a bit dry as he watches Miles watch him. He almost feels like he’s in a trance, for the millionth time this evening, and he just shakes his head sharply, exhaling and looking away.

“Nothing,” he says before Miles can ask. “What’s next?”

Miles goes to open his mouth but then decides against it and doesn’t press. He just takes the notebook back and moves along. “Twenty-seven: if you were going to become a close friend with your partner, share what would be important for them to know,” he recites. “Well, that one’s a bit silly. We already are close friends.”

“There’s nothing you’d want me to know, though?” Alex asks, and instantly wishes he hadn’t. Everything they’ve said in the last half hour has felt incredibly loaded, and Alex isn’t sure how much more he can take. Miles bites his lip as he stares Alex down again.

“I’d want you to know I can be a bit exhausting to spend a lot of time with,” he says quietly.

“No amount of time could ever make me tired of you,” Alex replies as soon as Miles’ finishes his sentence. Miles just smiles at him. “I’d want you to know I can be a bit clingy with people I care about.”

“I could never get tired of you being clingy,” Miles says in a similar fashion to Alex. Alex has to take a deep breath before he reads the next question and breaks the tension that’s formed between them again.

“Erm, okay, twenty-eight then,” he stumbles through his words. “Tell your partner what you like about them. Be very honest this time, saying things you wouldn’t to someone you’ve just met.”

“I like how intense you are,” Miles says. “You’ve got such focus. It’s inspiring, or, like. Aspirational. I learned so much from you when we did the Puppets about how to be a better songwriter; your creativity will always be one of the things I like most about you. We really connect there, in a way I never have with anyone else.”

Alex is practically out of breath when Miles stops speaking. It’s not like he doesn’t know any of this, it’s just the moment they’re in right now and how serious Miles sounds when he says it strikes a chord in Alex.

“Thank you,” he says in barely a whisper. “That’s… thanks, Miles, that means a lot.”

Miles just smiles gently at him.

“I like how loud you are,” Alex says. “How unabashedly you are yourself. I’ve always wished I were more outgoing, or at least just more comfortable in my own skin, and you bring me into that without even trying. It’s just, like. I feel so comfortable around you that even when we’re in situations where I’d normally clam up I feel at ease enough to be myself because you’re there. The way you are just so you all the time… I don’t know. I love it. Because I love you, I guess is what it comes down to.”

“Al,” Miles whispers. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Alex says. “Read the next one.”

Miles stares at him with moon eyes for a moment, effectively doubling Alex’s heart rate, and then goes to follow Alex’s instruction. “Twenty-nine: share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.”

“God, I feel like my entire life is one embarrassing moment,” Alex blurts. “Hm. During one of our first shows my guitar broke halfway through and I had no idea how to handle it and just floundered on stage while someone tried to fix it. It wasn’t even that embarrassing, but I was so mortified. Jamie didn’t let me live it down. Called me a tomato for at least a week.”

“That’s not even that bad,” Miles laughs. “During my music GSCE exam I knocked over the music stand which then knocked over another music stand, and another, and another, like fucking dominoes. The sound they all made as they crashed to the floor still haunts me.”

“I’m sure you played it off just fine, though, knowing you.”

“You give me too much credit sometimes,” Miles smirks. Alex rolls his eyes.

“As if I could ever,” he mutters under his breath. “Alright, home stretch. Thirty: when did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?” He places the notebook down. “I cried in front of Alexa a couple weeks ago. Don’t even remember what about. Last time by myself might’ve been when our Puppets tour ended. I was distraught for days after.”

“I cried in front of my mum when I was home for Christmas,” Miles answers. He doesn’t mention that it was also about their Puppets tour, but specifically how Miles feared he and Alex would never share that sort of experience again. “By myself, probably sometime in the last few weeks at a show or something.”

“Do you cry a lot?” Alex asks. “I feel like I should know that about you by now.”

“Not super often,” Miles says nonchalantly. “Shows and films just get to me really easily.”

Alex just nods. “The next question is ‘tell your partner something you like about them already,’ but we know each other, and kind of already did that anyways? So… thirty-two: what, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

“Your feelings for someone else,” Miles answers instantly. “I… in sixth form, this guy I fancied asked me out as a joke, cause he and his homophobic friends thought it’d be funny, and it… it fucked with me for so long. It was one of the worst things that happened to me as a kid.”

“Miles,” Alex says, his stomach twisting at the thought of Miles being treated so terribly. “I’m so sorry.”

Miles just shrugs. “S’alright.”

“It’s not,” Alex insists, sitting up and grabbing at Miles’ hand with both of his own. “That’s… you’re right, no one should ever joke about that sort of thing. It’s awful, just downright cruel. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay, Alex, really,” Miles whispers, pulling Alex to sit next to him. “I didn’t expect you to get so angry on my behalf over something that happened when I was 16.”

Alex sighs and nuzzles his face into Miles’ shoulder. “I just… I hate to think about you being hurt like that. And... and I… you know I never mean to lead you on, right? About anything. I try to be as honest with you as I can. As I can be with myself, really. I know our relationship is, like… blurry, sort of, sometimes, but I would never hurt you like that. You know that, yeah?”

“I know, Alex,” Miles says solemnly. In his mind this means one of two very different things: Alex has feelings and is trying to tell Miles every interaction they have has as much weight as he thinks, or Alex doesn’t have feelings and is trying to tell Miles to not read into how they behave. Both feel equally likely. Since Miles is still drunk, and he knows Alex is too, when he sees the next question on the page, he decides to push his luck and put Alex’s words to the test.

“Thirty-three: if you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?” he reads aloud, fighting the shaking that threatened to take over his voice. He feels Alex stiffen against his side.

“Miles,” Alex says again, barely audible even though he’s right next to Miles’ ear. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and then Miles is putting his fingers beneath Alex’s chin, tilting his face up until their eyes meet. Alex’s eyes are swimming as they meet Miles’, his lips slightly parted as if he were going to continue saying something but can’t get the words out. Miles is positive the exact same expression is reflected on his own face.

“I never told…,” Miles tries to start saying before changing his mind. “I’d regret not telling you this.”

And with that, he leans in and swiftly presses his mouth to Alex’s.

The kiss is so gentle it’s barely there, as if they’re feeling each other out, and Alex feels like he might faint. At first he barely reacts, overwhelmed by the feeling of Miles’ lips against his own, but when Miles’ hands move up to cup Alex’s face, holding him there against Miles so he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, he shifts until he’s all but in Miles’ lap, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel at his hip bones and chest. Miles’ mouth is moving against his slowly and rhythmically, and Alex feels like they could do this forever, a wash of warmth settling over his body and into the very center of his bones. His heart is racing and he’s sure Miles can sense it through where their mouths are connected, or perhaps through his fingers where they rest dangerously close to Alex’s pulse point. When Miles gets bolder and pushes his tongue past Alex’s lips, Alex feels his breath hitch in his throat, his nails digging into Miles’ skin, and it’s like he suddenly realizes what’s happening.

He pulls back sharply, Miles’ hands still on his face, foreheads centimeters apart. Miles is watching him, searching his eyes for a sign of regret, and Alex is just staring back at him wide eyed, panting against his face.

“Fuck,” Alex mutters after a moment.

“What is it?” Miles asks, his face falling ever so slightly as he drops his hands but doesn’t move away from Alex’s face. His head is spinning as he panics, worrying he’s crossed a line and that he was reading all of Alex’s signals wrong.

“I’m…,” Alex pauses. He looks down to his hands, letting them slide out from under Miles’ shirt to rest on his thighs, and feels a laugh bubble up inside him as he responds. “I’d regret not doing that too, if I were to die tonight.”

Miles just smiles brightly, eyes flickering down to his mouth for the briefest of moments and back up to his eyes.

“And I guess I have to finish my drink as well,” Alex adds, watching Miles’ smile grow even wider as he leans back in slowly, whispering to Alex before pressing their lips together again.

“By that rule I’d have to have finished my drink before this game even started.”