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“I wanna show you something.”
Miles said nothing to Alex’s proposal, and let himself be led. They’d already abandoned their afterparty in favour of being alone with one another. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Alex had already taken note on the others prior to their getaway. In some ways, he convinced himself it bought them more uninterrupted time, though he knew this wasn’t the case as they’d usually ignore their attempts of communication anyway. Last he saw, Owen was trying to drink himself to a stupor with Tyler, downing shot after shot at the bar.
They were both aware there’d be an investigation on their whereabouts sooner or later, though it seemed Alex was prepared to take that chance. So, Miles simply nodded, and smiled, and let Alex take him by the hand.
It was a deceivingly large labyrinth, to Miles. Alex, still with a tight, protective grasp around his hand, seemed to know his way around.
They climbed a flight of stairs, turned approximately 7 corners, and burst through 2 large sets of double doors. The corridors seemed endless, yet the walls seemed to never run out of hung pictures. Football shirts, autographs of the most prolific of celebrities, pictures of scientists he only vaguely could place the name of. Wedding photos. Unplayed vinyls, dying for attention, freedom from their frames.
They reached a door, and Alex stopped in front of it.
“Wait here.”
His mouth shaped the word ‘okay’, so softly, the word never came.
Alex disappeared into a side-door, and Miles’ curiosity began to perk.
He knew it was stupid, but the tiny voice inside his head longed for his return, though he’d not been gone for longer than ten seconds.
His worries were placed aside when the door he’d stopped before revealed the room through its thin, rectangular windows. Dimmed spotlights pointed into the centre, over the shadows of an antique carpet. A room before it, not so big it could be classed a hall, but big enough for a beautiful grand piano, asserting its presence in the far corner of the room. Perfectly sculpted pillars that arched together, at each side of the room, filling in the gaps with the artworks of kings and queens; knights on horseback.
He’d entered the room automatically, Alex following after him, having returned from the side-door.
“Where’d you find this place?” Miles whispered into the silence, breaking the unspoken tension.
“Been here a few times, with the guys. I came here alone. To think. Sometimes.”
Miles hummed in response, turning to face Alex once they’d strolled mindlessly into the middle of the room. He assumed it was somewhat of a recording studio, equipment stored away to avoid damage.
“S’beautiful,” he breathed, looking above him, admiring the tapestry on the ceiling.
“Yeah,” he agreed; softly, intimately. Then burst a shy giggle. “Why are we whispering?” he whispered.
Miles redirected his gaze, fascination never leaving his eyes as he switched his focus from the artwork to Alex. The same wonderstruck look still glinted his eyes, even as the corners of them crinkled to reveal a sheepish grin.
“M’just enjoying the view,” he said, looking directly at Alex.
It staggered him a little, the intensity of such gaze. Never had he held one with such emotion left unsaid, such power over him. Should he get lost in Miles’ brown orbs, staring straight through him as if he were a glass window, he found himself at a brink of insecurity - for Miles could simply see all of him, a full display of affection in plain sight.
He looked down, letting his insecurities get the better of him, fumbling with his hands.
“Wait, I have an idea.”
Miles was, again, left questioning, stood alone in the middle of a foreign room. He turned his head in the swift direction of Alex’s departure, back to the direction of the side-door, missing the warmth his presence had given him. He’d only sensed his own displeasure as soon as it was too late.
The ripples of music filled the air; a recognisable tune. The steady beat of a snare drum. A soft melody. Violins. Though it wasn’t sudden, it caught him by surprise, whipping his head in the first instance of sound to the direction of the source.
Before he knew it, Alex returned, with a gentle smile. “Found a record player. And Blackstar.”
Miles chuckled lightly, mostly pleased about his reappearance.
Alex offered a hand, closing the distance between them. “Care to dance?”
It was almost embarrassing how quick Miles was to accept his proposal, slipping his hand into Alex’s warm, pliant one, as he felt himself being pulled impossibly close into the embrace of the other man.
Wrapping an arm loosely around his waist, they began to sway at Bowie’s soft swoons.
‘Look up here, I’m in heaven.’
Not daring to challenge himself to the weight of a glimpse into Miles’ soft, brown eyes, Alex tucked himself into the space between his jaw and collarbone, nosing into his neck, inhaling his musky scent.
‘I’ve got scars that can’t be seen’
His senses were overwhelmed, alerted to their maximum, almost like he was taking a hit. The thrill of it soon came bleeding through his veins, the inevitable rush of blood through his body.
‘I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen’
His head felt light, his limbs felt loose enough to let go, ascension taking over.
‘Everybody knows me now.’
The sway of their bodies soon became synced, rocking from side to side, as the music gradually built from its foundations. The swoon of trumpets prompted Alex to lean from his right foot to his left, and left back to his right. Miles rocked with him, holding steadily onto his waist.
He felt Miles’ arm circle back around to his hip, no longer pulled flush against his front, Alex dared to part from his nuzzled space in Miles’ neck.
Looking into each other’s eyes came with ease; but the heaviness of it didn’t. It’d been a regular occurrence, especially performing for a crowd. Now, with the empty space around them, they had nobody to show but themselves.
With everyone else, Alex was concealed. It would take them years to notice what Miles could in a single glance.
With Miles, he was a window. His chest felt hollow, almost like a glass cabinet; only his heart on show - an exhibition. His lies spoke truths, for Miles could sense his own decoration of the story.
He wished so dearly that Miles couldn’t sense the subdued look in his eyes.
“You okay?” Miles whispered closely, locking their foreheads, hands still attached.
He hummed, a vagueness. It wasn’t the time for details. “Just hold me.”
Alex wrapped his arms tightly around the slightly taller man’s neck, returning to the spot beneath his jaw.
He felt a soft kiss planted in his mop of unkempt hair, still messy from their tireless gig.
Alex mumbled into his neck, unintelligible words vibrated through his body, though Miles couldn’t make out their meaning.
“What’s that love?” Miles whispered, a question.
Alex raised his head, trailing his nose tenderly along the line of Miles’ jaw, up to the curve of his ear. “I wish we had more time.”
A sweet counter, a reassurance was all he needed. And of course, Miles delivered. “We have all the time in the world, love.”
Alex closed his eyes, and let the music take over his senses. An overwhelming sense of longing, nostalgia for something he’d never have, washed over his senses, filling him with regret.
But there was still time. Time to salvage what was missing.
“I miss you… Mi,” he whispered, letting go of the filter that held the distinction between his thoughts and his words.
Miles smiled against his cheek, planting a wayward kiss there. He spoke gently into his ear, “I’m right here.”
“Miss you all the time. Don’t want this to end,” Alex almost slurred, in his hazy, yet sober state. He was simply inebriated on Miles.
It was the picture of intimacy. Miles hands softly secured around his waist, sneaking his hands under Alex’s untucked shirt, taking full advantage of the opportunity to feel the skin of his hips.
“‘M always here love. Always by your side.”
His head fell into Miles’ shoulder again; a frustrated sigh. Miles squeezed him affectionately in consolation.
Forgotten was their dance. Bowie simply swooned a backing track to their tale.
‘I love you,’ he longed to say. Those absent words only ran his mind in constant circles. His wish for Miles to know could only be granted should he put his heart out on the line - to take it out of that clear, hollow box, and to give him the contents with his own hands.
After all, the exhibition was only open for Miles.
Lifting his head out of the cave, he faced the man entwined with him. A final attempt.
His mouth opened to say something; having not thought out his words, he stopped. Eyes met. Breaths hitched.
He hadn’t the nerve for conviction. With a sudden loss of those certain dressed-up riddles, metaphors, purposefully understating the true weight of his meaning, he’d found himself resorting to action.
He extended onto his tiptoes, giving himself the reassurance of being at an equal height. Miles watched adoringly.
Leaning just that extra inch closer, he allowed the tips of their noses to brush. Miles’ eyes fell shut, in a silent anticipation.
As the music rose to a climax, Alex allowed himself those final few centimetres. Pressing their lips together with a certain fervour, he sighed gladly at the way Miles’ warm hands ran further up the bare skin of his back, pulling their bodies flush.
His reaction was enough to prove his answer to Alex without words. The testing press of Miles’ tongue allowed Alex to liberate his mind, free himself from the trap of doubt he’d created for himself.
He sighed. Relief. A smile pulled at his lips, threatening to break the kiss much too soon. Forcing his excitement to remain internal, he revelled in the way their lips shyly danced, and tongues met on several, unforgotten instances.
It was unknown territory. Yet, for once, one he wasn’t afraid to enter. With Miles by his side, his fear subsided, allowing free tears to roam his cheeks.
‘Oh, I’ll be free
Just like that bluebird.’
Miles gasped for breath, parting only millimetres from Alex. Their foreheads met.
“Oh, love, don’t cry,” he urged, wiping the damp tracks of his reddened cheeks.
Alex sniffled, saying nothing, with a content smile.