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Miles opens Prowler’s bedroom door and shuffles in, glaring at the math packet in hand. His hoodie is up and his slippers are loud. It’s two in the morning. “Hey man, I’ve got this Physics homework—”
“Shh!”
Miles shakes his head, his pencil spinning in his fingers. “This’ll only take a second—”
“Shut up.”
He looks up, confused. “It’s just one question—” He flinches back as Prowler threatens to throw a bowl of popcorn at him. Then he takes in the scene in front of him and stops in his tracks. “Woah. What’re you doing?”
“Shut the fuck—” Prowler smacks the space bar on his laptop to pause the movie, then yanks out his earbuds. He looks angrier than usual, with— are those tears? And his throat is hoarse, like he’s been crying for a while. “Why're you here? What’s wrong? What could possibly be wrong? Did you screw up the living room again? Dude, you’re gonna have to find a way to start cleaning up after yourself.”
Miles is looking from the dim lamp light, to the rose-scented candles, to the oversized purple blanket that Prowler is swaddled in. The giant popcorn bowl is half-empty and the laptop has two guys locked in a heated look with mood lighting. “Are you… watching a romance?”
“Déjame en paz, it’s my night off,” Prowler snaps, looking away. Hugging the blanket tighter to himself. He gets louder, with that vicious glare aimed at the wall. “It is my night off, where Mami is working and Uncle Aaron is out and I don’t understand why that is your problem, so if you have something to say about it all then go ahead. Que me quieres decir?”
Miles begins, “I think—”
“It’s my way of relaxing! I don’t care if you think it’s dumb, or girly or gay or whatever—”
“I think it’s cool, man.”
Prowler gapes. "You... what?"
Miles shrugs, lowering his homework. “The only thing I’m thinking right now is if you’ll let me join you.” He walks forward and kicks off his slippers, then climbs onto the bed. Stunned, still staring at him, Prowler makes room. “As long as you catch me up on all the build up to these two. What happened? Who were their previous love interests? Let me guess, one of them was closeted and this is their big romantic way of coming out mid-argument.”
“You… care? About this?”
Of course I do. He doesn’t say that. “Yep. Popcorn?”
Prowler stiffly hands him the bowl. Miles takes it. Prowler’s hand dangles uselessly in the air.
Miles takes his wrist and lowers it. Looking him in the eye. “Breathe, man.”
“I-I just. Uh.” Prowler looks tortured, face with a red tint to it. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that I’d rather watch a hot movie instead of finishing my boring-ass homework? Absolutely.”
“It’s… you know.”
Miles looks from the two men on the screen to Prowler. “I know.”
Prowler is really looking at him. Miles doesn’t mind, never has. He does the same, when the guy surprises him. It happens more often than either of them would care to admit.
Miles asks, “You okay, man?”
“A-Are you…? Are we…?” Prowler looks at the screen again.
“We’re different people. It’s up to you. Personally, I’m bi.”
“And Mami knows? Your Mami, I mean.”
“Yeah, she does. Dad is still a little weird but he tries.”
Prowler scoffs. “Right. Dad.”
They still haven’t met. Prowler said he never wants to meet him, and Miles didn’t push.
Miles shovels popcorn in his mouth and chews slowly, considering. “I guess your Uncle Aaron isn’t big on sexuality talks, huh? Mine died, you know, before I got old enough where I started questioning. So I’ll never know.”
“We talk about work. And girls. That’s it.”
“Do you like girls?”
Prowler winces. “I don’t fucking know. I’ve been let down a lot so I just… right now I mostly want someone… different. Tougher.”
“Makes sense,” Miles says, scooping more popcorn.
Prowler is beginning to sweat a little, the shine on his face reflected from the light of the laptop. But he quietly says, like a confession, “I don’t really, uh, know my label yet.”
“You don’t need one. Just do whatever you want.” He gently elbows Prowler’s arm. “So? Details. What’s going on in the movie?”
Prowler holds his own arm with a short, weak laugh. “You pretty much got it. Closeted, about to come out two hours in.”
Miles reaches and unplugs the earbuds, tossing them away. Then he turns up the volume. “Hit play. When you’re ready.”
Prowler hits play with a tiny, hesitant smile.
Once it’s finished, after the men have shared a heated, sensual kiss with a swell of music, and declare themselves, the credits roll. Prowler stares at the tiny, scrolling font like his brain is on fire.
Miles waits, eating more popcorn.
Prowler says, eventually, “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Of course. I don’t play about this stuff, man, this is serious.” He waits until Prowler is looking at him. “I’m here for you.”
Prowler looks away, but not before Miles spots the glassy tears at the corners of his eyes again. He mutters. “Thanks. So are you leaving now, or…?”
“Okay.” Miles hands back the popcorn and climbs out the bed. Prowler’s frown worsens and he holds the blanket tighter to himself. Miles pays it no mind as he stuffs his feet back in his slippers; it’s a difficult topic to wrestle with, he can overlook the guy being a little angry.
He pulls his AP Physics packet from where he tossed it.
“Oh, your homework—”
“Don’t even worry about it.”
Prowler is on his feet pretty quickly, the blanket falling away. He’s in sweats and a hoodie, just like Miles. His socks are fuzzy. He follows Miles to the bedroom door. “But it’s why you came, it’s the least I can do.”
Miles turns and rests his fist on his chest. “You don’t owe me for this. Besides,” he shrugs, “You’re thinking about bigger things right now.”
Prowler’s mouth works open and shut but he doesn’t deny it. Miles pats his chest and opens the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” Prowler asks, following him down the hall and out the front door.
“The roof, for less collateral damage.” Miles jumps the railing and jogs up the stairs. “You know, where we met.”
Prowler snickers. He always does, as if thinking about when he knocked Miles out is a pleasant, golden memory. Miles shoves open the heavy door to the roof with a grunt.
It’s a cool night. The stars are grayed out by smog and the city is angry below. Horns and alarms are blaring. It smells like smoke. Miles walks to the middle of the roof, with Prowler still silently on his heels.
As he plugs in Earth-1610, Prowler quietly asks, “When will you be back?”
Miles looks at him. “When do you need me to be?”
Prowler shrugs. “I hate you. But you are helpful sometimes, so…”
Miles snickers. “Next time I come I’ll bring an interdimensional phone for you. We can stay in touch, yeah? And I can warn you when I’m coming.”
Prowler nods, with that tiny smile again.
Miles opens the portal. Trash and old wires lift in the air; nothing important. “Is this movie night a weekly thing for you?”
Prowler nods, eyes a little wide but mouth locked shut. The offer is obviously on the tip of his tongue.
Miles asks, “So, next week, can I—”
“Yes. Yes.” He looks away and quietly finishes, “Please.”
“You got it, man.” He half-opens his arms. “You hate hugs, but, maybe tonight you need one?” He gives his best, award-winning smile.
Prowler mutters, “You’re pushing it.”
“I know.” Miles crosses the distance between them and hooks his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The fact that they’re the same height and size makes for pretty spectacular hugs. Miles murmurs, “I’m here for you, okay?”
Prowler nods against his shoulder.
“I promise. And I never break those, so you're stuck with me."
Some tension eases from the other's shoulders. Only then does Miles slowly pull away. A quick once-over shows Prowler in a better place than when Miles walked in on him. No angry furrow between his brow, no tears. His hands are in his pockets as he watches Miles right back; looking at him in a new light.
Miles gives a two finger salute, then turns and walks through the portal.