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Alex was dreaming. He had to be.
Like looking through a camera lens, he saw his dad, sullen and frowning as he took a sip of tea sat down alone at the kitchen table.
He recognised the layout of the kitchen as that of the red-brick semi-detached he'd grown up in in High Green, next door to the Helderses. Alex knew that it had to be a dream because everything was coloured in shades of grey.
"Dad? Ey up, what're you doin'? What's wrong?" He walked up behind him and put his hand on the back of the chair. "Alright? It ain't really my business, but did you and Mum have a row or summat? Come on, Dad, talk to me."
David Turner tilted his head back and drank the rest of his tea until he drained the dregs. He sighed loudly and frowned at Alex when he set the cup down.
"I wish it were that simple, son. I'd love to be able to sit 'ere and tell you that's what 'tis. Your mum don't care about it, but good God! It were bad enough when you were gallivatin' around wi' that Wirralian lad onstage, but t' find out that you're actually livin' and sleepin' together! I'm ashamed of ya, Alex."
"W-wait Dad, that's not what's - that's not -"
"Not any of my business, I reckon you were about to say? Well now, Alexander David Turner, Mr Big Rock Star, all grown up and shite. You don't need your old Boomer father anymore. You make me sick. You're no son of mine."
"Dad! 'm sorry! Please don't say that. Please don't be angry! I -"
"Hey, Al. Al! Wake up, love, you're 'avin' a nightmare. C'mon now, open your eyes for me." Alex felt a cool hand firmly but gently pat his cheek. He opened his eyes with a blubbering sob and leapt into Miles's arms.
"Hey, it's alright. It's gunna be alright now, Al. I'm 'ere. Shh, don't cry. I don't think I can take it." He rubbed Alex's back in circles and hummed a tune that Alex recognised almost immediately as Brahms Lullaby.
He giggled uneasily and kissed Miles's collarbone. "Th-thanks, Miles. I dunno what's come over me. I never 'ave nightmares. I barely even dream at all. Must've been summat I ate."
"Hmm." Miles hummed uncertainly and looked at him. "If you say so. Maybe it was the spag bol, eh?"
"Yeah, maybe." Alex rested his head on Miles's shoulder and moaned with drowsy pleasure at the feel of the rise and fall of his chest.
"So what did you dream about? You can tell me about it, Al. If you want to."
Alex whimpered and shook his head. "Hmm-nnn. I'd rather not dwell on that bit of unpleasantness, if it's all the same to you. I had something else in mind..."
A few hours later, as he watched Miles sleep, Alex felt his heart swell. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it was the first time Miles had called him 'love.'