Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

— Alex —

“Alright let’s do this boys!” Josh’s voice booms throughout the club as he jumps into the ring, his referee whistle swinging from his neck.

Alex steps in smoothly, not willing to risk what might happen if he jumps into the ring, adjusts his mouth guard and watches his opponent bounce up from the floor onto the elevated platform, his spry limbs thrumming with energy as he stands facing Alex. His couch who Alex only knows as ‘Big Lew’ gives him a few pointers before nodding and stepping back, Alex doesn’t remember the other fighters name but that’s not unusual, after so many fights everyone’s names tend to blur into a single identifier - opponent.

They begin with some fairly friendly sparring, making light jabs and dodging to warm up, but as soon as Josh blows the atmosphere shifts and they both click into gear. Alex’s opponent immediately begins to advance, kneeing and punching him with ease in quick succession. For a moment Alex catches a glimpse of James looking up at him from his side of the ring, clearly checking to make sure he’s ok. That split second allows his opponent access to his chest as Alex doesn’t quite react fast enough to stop the other man from hitting him across his sternum. The impact shocks him and he hears someone across the room wince loudly. As Alex sways in the ring, ceiling lights spotting his vision, he curses himself for being so distracted and looks up to see his opponent grinning. He’s not usually this caught off guard by someone new, especially not someone so clearly unable to take things seriously.

“Come on then tough guy, show us your special moves.” The man in all black jeers words slurring around his mouth guard, knocking his gloved hands together with a smirk as he lunges back in to taunt Alex with his fists. But as he does so, Alex pulls back, twists his torso and lifts his left leg up to kick his opponent’s thigh, landing a satisfying blow that sends a tingle from his foot to his brain, followed by a few punches to his opponent’s chest and hip. As the other man stumbles a little Alex can feel his internal engine revving up and he easily dodges the next few jabs the other man throws at him. But just as he starts to feel grounded again, his opponents begins his jabbering again.

“Alright old man, let me show you,” he punches Alex in the stomach, “how it’s done.”

With the wind knocked out of him, Alex falls back slightly against the ropes, letting the elasticity push him back towards his opponent who is a little caught off guard by Alex’s immediate recovery. They continue to steal jabs from each other, both panting in the ring as they punch and kick. That is until Alex’s opponent lands an uppercut to his mouth with his fist. At first Alex doesn’t react, caught off guard by the move, but when blood from his split lip lands in his mouth he suddenly feels the tell tale dizziness that has plagued him lately. His discomfort must be obvious because James starts gesturing and Josh blows his whistle.

“Al, I think you’re done. For now.” His coach says, his eyes boring holes into the side of Alex’s head as the fighter slowly crouches down to stop from completely collapsing.

Alex hates the taste of blood. He touches his glove to his lip and reluctantly slips out of the ring, James hovers unhelpfully as Alex rips of his gloves, removes his mouth guard and grabs the towel being offered, storming off in a panicked haze. Behind him his opponent is shouting in annoyance and as the words hit that back of Alex’s neck, he prickles at their course unforgiving tone.

“The fuck, where’s he goin’? We just got started! Barely touched him!” Miles yells as Lew tries to coax him out of the ring. “Fucking little bitch.”

If Josh say’s anything Alex is too far away to hear it, heading straight for the toilets to clean his cut and stop his head spinning. Leaning up against the sink he takes a second to steady his breathing, heart beating erratically as he tries not to sway or swoon. Once he looks up into the mirror he grimaces at the reflection of his bruised face and cut lip, briefly making eye contact with himself before looking down at his trembling hands. He watches them for a moment, the sound of the other fighter’s yelling still ringing in his ears, it loops in his brain until he can’t stand it any longer and turns the tap on to splash water in his face. His lip stings when hit with the cold water but he barely registers the feeling, too busy trying to figure out if he’ll be able to make it to the club room without passing out. ‘It’s a shame’ he thinks, ‘I was feeling pretty good this morning.’

—

When Alex woke up he felt uncharacteristically light. Usually he emerged from his fitful sleep with the weight of the world resting on his chest and limbs so rigid he worried they’d shatter as he moved. But today he’d rolled out of bed fairly easily, checked the time and decided to make the most of a stress free morning. He chose his running shoes over coffee, eager to kick start his heart with something that wouldn’t lead to a panic attack later in the day. As his feet pounded the path around Victoria Park Alex let himself think about his plans for the day, secretly smiling to himself as he anticipated his fight at the gym with Lew’s newest recruit. Alex couldn’t remember his name but he did know that his next opponent had only just started fighting in their circuit, and he’d already made a splash. Something about fighting someone new, someone who’s style he hadn’t seen before filled Alex with unbridled excitement and he ran back home with a little more bounce in his strides.

“Al, you left your spare mouth guard in my car, washed it and everything though so you can take it back with you later.” James’ voice on the phone was the soundtrack to his morning stretching ritual.

“Yeah yeah.” Alex replied, stood with his feet firmly planted on the floor of his room as he bent over to touch his toes, “you sure this guys good? Heard he was but, you know how Lew is with new guys he hypes them up then they turn out to be little clones of him.”

“I saw him knock out Ed last week Al, Lew’s already got him booked for the competition up in Chester.”

That’s all Alex needed to hear and he took the promise of a good fight with him as he geared up for an afternoon of writing before his evening session.

— Miles —

Lew pats Miles on the back as he encourages his fighter to sit down. It does very little to calm Miles’ frustration but he sits anyway, eager to remove his gloves and mouth guard. It’s been a disappointing start to the evening and he’s not afraid to let everyone know his feelings.

“The fuck was that?” He mutters, his voice having lost some of it lustre since his opponent had exited the room.

“Listen Miles, it’s not a big deal. It’s actually the perfect time for me to give you some pointers,” Lew begins, leaning towards Miles. His 6 foot 5 frame towering over the fighter as he lectures him on etiquette, it makes Miles feel like a child being scolded by his father. “The main thing really is that when you know your opponent is at their weakest point, your job-“

Said opponent walks back into the main area, his coach James following close behind as they settle down on the benches on the other side of the ring. Miles immediately looks over, still trying to piece together what happened as the two men talk quietly between themselves. Lew’s lecture is completely drowned out by Miles thoughts as he stares openly at the fighter who seems agitated rocking as he sits and looking anywhere but at James.

“Miles mate are you listening?” Lew’s frustrated voice comes back onto focus.

“Yeah yeah. I uh think I get it now.” Miles nods, leaning back as he drinks from his water bottle. Lew seems satisfied with Miles lack lustre responses and stands to talk with Josh, but Miles doesn’t move, eyes still trained to the two figures across the ring. When his opponent looks up and over at him they briefly make eye contact. For the split second when their eyes meet, Miles feels his fingers tingle, the urge to march over and challenge his opponent again is strong. But when the other man quickly looks away, seeming to shrinking into himself, Miles let’s go of that fantasy, sure that it’s not worth it. ‘Coward’ he thinks as his opponent stands up and walks into the club room.

Lew returns with good news and lets Miles know that Cameron’s just arrived and he’s willing to spar with him. So he shakes off his frustration and gears up for what he hopes will be a real fight.

In the ring, Cameron looms over him, tall and broad, Miles knows that they are far from the same weight category. But he can’t pass up the opportunity to fight someone who he respects. His strategy is to stay low and pump a lot of power into his jabs, hoping to slowly break his opponent down. Cameron is Big Lew’s most successful trainee and as they spar, Miles can’t help but smirk at how similarly they fight, limbs flung about like hulking giants. But Miles is fairly sure that Cameron is past his prime and he’s ready to take up the number one spot on Lew’s list of fighters.

“Come on boys,” Josh stands between them with his whistle, nodding at both before blowing it as their second round stare. He’s as menacing in person as Lew described, but Miles isn’t usually intimidated by his type. Old fighters who open up martial arts clubs and referee matches to relive their own golden days through younger fighters. Not that Miles is particularly young, but he is fairly green to the sport and not as battered as some of the other fighters who hang around the club. As he fights he can sense the eyes of some of those battered fighters, specifically his first opponent who re-emerges from the club room with a banana in hand. Something about the extra attention adds fuel to Miles’ fire and he refocuses on Cameron, using his knees to land a few sharp blows to the other man’s thighs. He doesn’t know why the thought of those wandering brown eyes spurs him on, but they do and Miles is pleased to find he puts up a good fight with Cameron. Ultimately he can’t keep up with his much more seasoned opponent, growing less accurate as they continue to fight. But he prides himself on never giving up, no matter how insignificant, so pushes on till the end of the last round.

When the nights done and all the scheduled sparring has taken place, Miles finally strips off all of his protective gear. Most fighters and coaches are chatting casually with each other but out of the corner of his eye, Miles spots his first opponent and James having a heated discussion. As he places his shin guards in a bag besides him, Miles strains to try and hear what the two are saying but can’t quite make it out. He does notice how the other man seems intent on ignoring James, facing away from him with a face so sour Miles briefly wanders if he’s in pain. But any sliver of sympathy Miles had dies when his first opponent barges past him as they’re both trying to exit the gym at the end of the night.

“The fuck!” He exclaims as the other man blindly rushes out of the door, James hot on his heels, shouting back apologies to Miles who tightly grips his equipment bag. ‘It’s not a big deal’ he thinks, Lew’s words echoing in his head as he walks home, but Miles can’t shake his frustration.

Chapter Text

— Miles —

Candi Staton’s voice fills the room with joyous music, Miles shimmies around a little, taking a swig from his beer as he spins and checks himself out in the mirror. He’s pumped for the night, straightening the collar of his red polo shirt and dusting off his leather jacket. He briefly considers wearing his loafers but decides against it, slipping into boots instead after he jogs downstairs. His puppy Max is hot in his heels, also just as excited to head out as Miles is and when the little white dog spies the leash that Miles is holding, he goes into overdriving. Yelping and barking and spinning around in little circles that make Miles giggle.

“You excited Maxie? Come on,” Miles kneels and secures Maxie’s leash then rubs his behind his ears, finger tips immersed in the short curls of his dog’s head. “There we go,” Miles stands up and grins down at his dog, who’s dark round eyes sparkle like marbles under the warm light of his living room. ‘What would I do without you’ he thinks as they head out.

Matt: you getting here any time tonight?

Miles reads the text he’s been sent and rolls his eyes, he doesn’t think he’s that late but the tone of Matt’s text says otherwise and he checks to see what time they’d agreed to meet up. ‘Half 7’ he thinks, ‘well it’s only 8 I’m barely late.”

Miles: be there in 10 x

The walk to the pub is mercifully short, he shivers a little as he walks, cold London gusts whistling through his leather jacket. It’s a small price to pay for the ability to look good though and he’s sure once he gets inside he’ll warm up after a pint of two. The pub Matt invited him too is fairly quiet, dimly lit as most pubs are but also small and only half full. Miles can’t say he’s ever been inside before, though he does sometimes jog around the block on his evening runs. As he looks across the tables, scanning over the heads of bald old men he finally spots Matt.

“Miles! Fucking finally,” Matt yells over once he spots the Scouser walking towards them, Maxie in tow behind him.

“Hey, sorry I’m late mate,” Miles picks Maxie up as they get to the table, “had to bring this little guy with me.”

Matt beams as he stands, hugging Miles and petting Maxie, “let me introduce you, this is Jamie, Nick and Alex.” Matt points as he names his friends and Miles nods and smiles politely until his eyes land on Alex. Alex, that’s the name of his first opponent from last weeks session.

“Fuck, it’s you.” He blurts, as he settles down directly opposite Alex in the booth, the other man mirrors his surprise, brown eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he momentarily stares at Miles. It doesn’t last long though as the other man seems to get over his shock, face falling into a scowl before looking away. ‘Just like last week’ Miles thinks, Alex’s arrogance already provoking his annoyance.

“You lot know each other already then?” Matt looks between the two, amusement dripping from his voice.

Miles rips his eyes away from Alex’s face and grins at Matt, “yeah beat this guy in the ring last week.”

“Hang on, Al? Thought you’d quit.” Nick speaks up, putting down the beer he’s been nursing in his hand. Miles notices how Alex winces slightly before shrugging and continuing to sip his half full pint.

“Well he’s a fucking idiot so I’m not surprised.” Jamie chimes in with strong words that don’t match his tone, Miles can’t ignore that his statement leaks more disapointment and concern than real anger. “So how’d you meet then, Matt won’t tell us.” Jamie turns his attention to Miles, his blue eyes searching Miles critically.

‘Why does this feel like an interrogation?’ Miles thinks before regaining his composure. He let’s Maxie down off his lap and onto the floor, “well it’s a long and tragic story, d’you mind if I grab a pint first?” He doesn’t wait for anyone’s approval, standing with a smile and walking over to the bar with his dog in tow. As he waits to get served, Miles can feel the eyes of the group boring curious holes in his back, but he doesn’t mind, he’s not one to shy away from the blinding light of other people’s attention. He is an entertainer after all.

“What can I get you babe?” The older blonde bartender asks and Miles is momentarily drawn away from his thoughts about the group to his drink order. Once he’s ordered, Miles dares to turn and face the boys, fascinated by their tight knit circle. Nick seems to be telling a story as the other three men look at him with their full attention, laughing in unison at the punchline. As Miles waits for his drink he can’t help but stare at Alex in his dark wool coat and black flat cap, who’s head is tilted back slightly as he laughs, eyes closed and grin so large it reveals a dimple in his cheek. It’s a beautiful sight, and if Miles had any sense he’d drop his animosity and dedicate his life to making Alex laugh, but Miles has more pride than that so he grits his teeth and drops his head down towards Maxie. But as he’s about to check on his little dog, Miles’ eyes fall on a shiny object between Alex’s feet. It’s black and seems to be folded up, laying on the floor discreetly. It reminds Miles of his Grandad but he’s unsure why. Below the bar Maxie yelps, clearly thirsty and Miles turns to ask the server if she has a bowl just as she pushes his pint towards him.

“Thanks love, you got a bowl for the water, it’s for me pup.” he grins down at Maxie who’s still sat staring up at him, his little pink tongue poking out as he pants. When Miles returns to the booth he settles down and continues to observe the group, pleased by how much they remind him of his own group of friends.

“So how’d you and Matt meet?” Jamie asks, clearly still curious.

“Uh well, we had a fight, I used to box-“

“That your MO then?” Alex’s surprisingly deep voice interrupts Miles’ story and the Scouser can’t help but smirk at the comment, noticing the brief glint of amusement in Alex’s eyes emphasised by his otherwise neutral face.

“I guess yeah.” Miles grins, and jumps into his story, describing in detail his first fight with Matt back when he still lived at home with his Mum, occasionally stopping to let Matt clarify details and add in his own jokes. It’s a period of time he remembers well, the first time he’d really travel away from the Wirral and he remembers his fight nights in Sheffield with fondness.

“Thing is, we were barely in the same weight category. And that’s how you can tell Joe didn’t take either of us seriously.” Matt laughs and the group begin to weigh in on whether either of the two men could have ascended their respective local ranks as boxers.

“D’you remember George from Lancaster? He was a fucking prodigy, I hear he did pretty well, went semi-pro for a bit.” Miles laughs, thinking back to some of his toughest opponents.

“He was a maniac, really skinny too, probably the skinniest fighter I’ve ever seen.” Matt muses, shaking his head in a way that Miles alone understands, the bittersweet regret of lost fights never really leaves you, even after you’ve moved on.

“So why’d you switch to Muay Thai?” Alex asks from across the table, lifting his eyes from the table to look at Miles with open curiosity. He’s been fairly quiet for the entire time Miles has been at the table and he wonders whether Alex is uncomfortable with his presence. Miles notices the way the other man uses the tips of his fingers to tap away at the table or his shoulder or his half empty pint glass, rarely looking up to follow the conversation but clearly still listening.

“Uhh I just really wanted to see what these guys could do,” Miles taps at his elbows grinning as the table erupts into laughter. Alex doesn’t laugh, a much smaller smile spreading across his face and Miles is momentarily disappointed, suddenly compelled to try and crack the facade of indifference that Alex is holding onto for dear life. But before he can think about what else to say, Maxie begins whining at his feet and Miles realises he needs to take him out. As he gets up to leave Jamie follows closely behind, muttering something about a smoke break.

In the dimly lit smoking area, both men stand in silence, lighting their respective cigarettes and watching as Maxie takes care of business in the tall grass.

“So uh how was Al, when you fought him the other day?” Jamie asks abruptly, brows furrowed in concern as he looks at Miles.

“Well he tapped out pretty early on, didn’t really get a good go with him.” Miles replies wistfully, thinking about his disappointment in the ring last week, especially because he can tell that at full strength Alex is clearly a formidable fighter.

“Fuck sake,” Jamie vigorously stubs out his half smoked cigarette in annoyance, “he needs to fucking quit. Sorry Miles, I’ll see you inside.” The other man marches back inside, leaving Miles with his growing curiosity. Maxie still needs a few minutes outside and Miles is fairly certain a heated discussion is occurring at the table between Alex’s friends so he takes his time, mulling over the evening so far.

“You’re not 18 anymore Al, you can’t just throw yourself around and hope-“ that’s all Miles catches as he walks back to the booth, watching as Jamie spots him and clamps up.

The awkward silence stretches out, Alex scowling as he avoids eye contact with Jamie who seems intent on boring holes into Alex’s skull.

It’s Nick who breaks the tension first, “what d’you do for work?” He asks Miles, his nervous eyes giving away how uncomfortable this reoccurring conversation with Alex must be for the group.

A grin spreads across Miles’ face as he relishes any and all opportunities to talk about his job. “I’m a musician.” The questions come flying in right after his revelation and Miles explains his journey from being a guitarist in bands to being a solo front man. This seems to excite the group who momentarily forget their conflict with Alex to talk about music. It’s also the only topic that Alex seems interested in, suddenly intent on trying to pick Miles’ brains about the industry and the state of live music.

“You got stuff you’re working on?” Alex asks, large brown eyes searching Miles’ face in a way that suddenly makes the musician feel as though he needs to prove himself.

“Well I’ve been working on this album for a bit- it’s well I think it’s the best thing I’ve done ever. Got some shows comin’ up to if you lot want to stop by.” Miles beams, pleased by how impressed Alex seems to be. As they continue to talk about music Miles relaxes into the group dynamic, feeling less like an outsider as they joke about seeing Oasis and listening to rap in their teens. By the time they all decide to head out, Matt insisting he pay the tab, Miles hopes he’ll get to see them all again. He’s certainly intent on seeing Alex again and jokes about finally being able to have a real fight the next time they’re both at Josh’s gym. That comment alone almost triggers another argument within the group but Alex brushes them all off, insisting that he’s fine and avoiding eye contact with Miles as he stands up. Miles is unsure why Alex’s demeanor changes so drastically until he sees how much the other man struggles to get up, slowly moving his limbs as he rises. Realising that his staring is probably making Alex uncomfortable, he turns to pick up and pet Maxie, who has been very well behaved all night. As they spill out onto the street Miles looks back to check that Alex is ok and spots the other man walking out, leaning on the object Miles had spotted earlier in the evening, a shiny black cane.

“Come on then old man, let’s get you home.” Matt stops and waits for Alex to catch up with the group, smiling even as Alex scowls, flips him off and maintains his pace. The duo stop by a taxi rank as Jamie and Nick head off to another pub, waving goodbye as they walk in tandem under the successive column of street lights. For a moment Miles considers joining them, but decides against extending the night, ready to walk home and put Maxie to bed. He lets his dog down as he says goodbye.

“See you later boys.” Miles nods at Matt and Alex who shuffle into a cab.

“D’you want to jump in Miles?” Matt asks as Alex gets settled.

“Nah, Maxie deserves a little walk.” At the mention of walk, Maxie perks up and yelps excitedly, the accidental comedic timing earning a chuckle from the two friends.

“G’night Maxie, g’night Miles,” Alex replies, smiling weakly and waving as he leans back in his seat, breath shallow enough that Miles’ notices his struggle. It’s a moment that warms Miles’ heart and as he walks home, the musician can’t help but feel like he’s been given another clue into the mystery that is Alex. He has to assume that Alex is struggling with some sort of injury but can’t quite balance that idea with the anger and worry that the group seem to level towards Alex choice to fight. Clearly something else is happening below the surface that Miles can’t quite see yet. He hopes that the next time they’re set to fight he can find out what exactly it is that ails Alex.

— Alex —

The room spins dramatically as Alex sits up in his bed. He can tell it’s a bad day before his feet have even hit the floor so he grabs his phone and lays back down.

Alex: shit’s bad, can’t get downstairs.

He texts Matt a distress signal, one that has become more and more familiar as the months have progressed and his health has deteriorated.

Matt: Omw!

Alex sighs, trying his best not to feel bad for himself as he waits for his friend to rescue him from his own body. His mind drifts to Miles once again as it has done for the past few days. Today he wonders whether Miles will notice his absence from the gym later tonight, Alex hopes he does and then scolds himself for hoping for something so self indulgent, especially because he’s only known the other man for a week. But sitting across from Miles at the pub, watching him play with his puppy and laugh with Alex’s friends has opened up a reservoir of emotions that Alex wasn’t sure he still had access to. So he’s spent his week editing news articles and day dreaming about all the things he’d like to talk to Miles about, music, football, wrestling- all things that Alex assumes Miles has strong opinions on. He also thinks about fighting him in the ring, but that day dream is more bittersweet, especially as he’s barely been able to do more than walk to the microwave to heat up ready meals. It’s been a bad week but that’s not surprising. His trip to the pub had sealed the deal and it’s a miracle he’d survived the night. Part of him feels a little ashamed that he needed to rely on his cane, Matt insisting he use it after watching him battle a dizzy spell at his front door. He hopes that Miles doesn’t think less of him now that he’s seen it, especially since he’s already been putting up fairly poor front of strength. Another part of him likes that he has nowhere to hide, years of trying to pretend to be healthy have exhausted him, so his mask slipping so early is a relief.

The sound of Matt opening the front door draws Alex away from his thoughts and as he hears the familiar steps of his friend on the steps he’s grateful for how reliable his best friend is.

“Alright mate let’s get you moving.” Matt swoops in and saves Alex’s morning, getting him upright and steadying him as they walk to the bathroom. Once inside Alex can manage himself so the trickiest part of the morning remains the stairs which feel like an insurmountable obstacle. Even with Matt’s help the journey down is slow and Alex hopes more than anything that by the time he eventually has to climb back up the stairs later in the day, he’ll have gathered enough strength for the task.

Matt by his side remains chipper, cracking jokes and making small talk even after Alex stops replying, mind too occupied with the task of managing his growing anxiety to return his friend’s jokes with any semblance of his usual wit. Alex has long since stopped feeling guilty for not putting on a brave front with Matt, thankful that his oldest friend has been around for every diagnosis he’s been handed over the years. Unmasking with Matt is as close as he gets to feeling comfortable around anyone and as Matt makes him breakfast Alex can’t help but worry about what he’ll do when Matt can’t help him anymore.

Later in the afternoon, just as Alex is beginning to ease into his work flow for the day, emailing his editors and making the final touches to his article about a local Park run, Matt bursts his bubble.

“Jamie’s still pissed by the way, says you’re ignoring his calls.” His friend declares as he settles down on the coach next to him.

Alex groans and rubs at his face, unenthused by the conversation that is about to unfold, “it’s like- he’s like talking to a brick wall, it’s just- there’s basically no point.”

“Al, he’s just worried and-“ Matt begins but is cut off.

“Yeah and it’s fucking suffocating. He just doesn’t fucking get it.” Alex turns to face Matt, “he doesn’t get that it’s not just about quitting, it’s- it’s,” Alex stops in his tracks, feeling suddenly nauseous as he considers what being unable to fight and train means.

“I get it Al, believe me.” Matt gestures towards his arm where a long pink vertical scar marks the surgery he had to fix his broken arm, “you’re scared. It feels like something’s bein’ ripped away from you, something you rely on.” He stops and looks up, catching Alex’s eyes which begin to water at the reality of his situation. Neither of them talk much after that, retreating from the painful topic. When Matt leaves for a meeting with a client, Alex tries to work but his mind continues to drift back to Miles.

‘I wonder if Miles’ winning his fight right now.’ He thinks, laying on his back flicking through the sports channels. When his phone vibrates he grabs it and smiles at what he reads on the screen.

Matt: Miles wants to know where you are today, he thinks you’re running scared

Alex: Did you tell him?

Matt: no

Alex: Tell him I wanted to give him a chance to prove himself, before I crush him next week

Matt: ok

Matt: he said - no chance I’m ever letting him win x

Alex: Was that x from you or from him?

Matt: him obviously

Alex: Tell him that I already know all his moves anyway, it won’t be hard for me to beat him

Matt: he said you should - come over and prove it big boy x

Alex’s eyes widen a little at that message and he taps the phone icon before he even has time to think about it.

“Did he really- did he say that? Are you pulling my leg?” Alex launches in before Matt can even say hello.

“Well hello to you too Al, hope you’re well.” Matt voice sounds exasperated, Alex ignores it.

“Oh you’ve seen me you know I’m feeling shit. Were those his actual words?” Alex feels a little jittery, unsure about whether Miles is being playful or whether he really has been thinking about Alex as much as Alex has been thinking about him.

“Yeah he did, which really shouldn’t mean anything because you’re in no position-“ Matt’s reply is cut off.

“I need you to tell him that I can take him, whatever he throws at me I can take it.” Alex begins to envision himself in the ring with Miles, he can almost feel the gloves around his hands as he squares up and watches the spry fighter bounce around on the balls of his feet. The feeling of sweat on his forehead, the warmth thrumming through his body as he lunges in to throw a well timed punch, it’s all so real that he momentarily forgets to listen to what Matt is saying.

“- to flirt on IMessage I won’t be a part of it.” Matt’s annoyance cuts through Alex’s daydream.

“What?” Alex asks confused.

“Christ. Do you want his number Al? I didn’t plan on being a middle man for whatever you lot have got going.”

Before he can think of a reply, Matt sends over Miles’ number and promptly hangs up. Alex stares at his phone for a moment, the opportunity he has been handed is too good to give up.

Alex: I could take you on any day.

The message he sends to Miles is a lie and he chuckles bitterly at the irony of the situation he is in, but the allure of being able to talk to the Scouser pushes away any discomfort he feels in the moment.

Miles: Bring it on baby xx

— Miles —

He grins down at his phone at Alex’s message, the other man doesn’t mince his words and that excites Miles in a way that he hasn’t felt in a while. Alex’s situation is still a mystery but Miles is sure that Alex will let him know what’s going on as soon as he’s comfortable.

“Miles get your gloves back on, Adam’s ready.” Lew yells over at him and Miles jumps up from his spot on the bench, grabbing his gloves and fixing his mouth guard. He looks over towards his opponent and eyes him up, already sure he knows how to beat the other man. As he jumps into the ring Miles feels the familiar buzz of excitement working it’s way under his skin, goose bumps rising along his bare arms as the adrenaline pumps through his body. There is something so intoxicating about being in the ring, the lights above illuminating the enclosed platform, the eyes of everyone in the room, the blood rushing in his ears as he makes eye contact with his opponent.

The other man smirks as he stares at Miles, his mouth snarled in a way that lets Miles know his opponent is over confident. When they begin to spar Miles quickly gains an understanding of his opponent’s style, the other fighter jabbing and ducking but landing very few heavy blows. It doesn’t take long for Miles to warm up and he fights with his usual brash confidence, landing satisfying kicks and dodging most of his opponents punches. This seems to frustrate Adam who’s moves become more erratic as he tries to catch Miles on the back foot, but years of experience in rings like this across the country have taught Miles that maintaining your composure is your greatest weapon. As he gradually wears his opponent down, Miles can’t help but briefly wonder what it would feel like to fight Alex again, the other man had the best technique of anyone he’s fought in the gym so far, better than Adam who looks ready to burst with frustration.

“Alright, rounds up!” Josh yells as he blows his whistle in ring, clearly non plussed by the display in front of him, “Adam do yourself a favour and work on actually hitting your target.”

Miles smirks at that and jumps out of the ring, approaching his bench just as Josh starts to give Adam some pointers. As he takes off his gloves and bends over to place them on top of his bag, Miles can here his opponent’s grumblings growing louder and louder.

“How the fuck did I lose to that fucking fag.” Adam spits, words slightly muffled by his mouth guard.

Miles bristles at the words. The hairs on his neck standing on end as his skin prickles. Blood rushes through his ears and his vision blurs. For a moment he’s transported back to his 15 year old self, those same words piercing the softest parts of him as runs away from the threat of violence launched by neighbourhood boys bigger and stronger than him. He doesn’t run this time. Turning on his heels before Lew has anytime to stop him. He barrels towards Adam, grabbing the other fighter by the throat with his left hand and sending rapid punches to the other man’s jaw until he draws blood. Large hands pull him backwards but everyone’s voices are still muffled and Miles’ focus is still trained on Adam who’s yelling in pain as blood drips from the side of his mouth, his jaw and cheek already beginning to swell with bruises like red blooming blood bouquets. Adam staggers back and clutches at his face, eyes wide in surprise and hatred. Miles’ chest heaves as he looks down at his trembling hands, knuckles smeared with blood.

“Miles! Fuck sake, come on.” Lew pulls him away, voice suddenly loud and clear to Miles who lets himself be lead outside.

The cold air hits him instantly, cooling his body down and letting him breathe again as Lew lectures him on self control. Most of the words wash over him, like water they flow past him but don’t seep into his mind, which remains ablaze with anger and indignation.

“Are you listening? Miles mate you can’t start fights out of the ring. I know he’s pissed you off, I get it, but Josh won’t let you back if he thinks you’re trouble.”

“You don’t get it.” Miles spits out, eyes trained to the concrete watching his reflection ripple and shift in a large puddle at his feet. The street lamps illuminating his surly reflection. His right hand still tingles, knuckles aching where his fist made contact with Adam’s jaw and as Miles squeezes his hand he can’t fight the urge to do it again, reliving the satisfaction of his bare skin on the soft flesh of his opponents face.

“Well yeah I guess I don’t exactly, but my point is you can’t just flip out. You put all that energy into fighting, you jump in the ring, you work hard, you win the fight, you leave everything there.” Lew is staring hard at his profile as if trying to drill his words into Miles brain. The smaller man reluctantly turns to face his coach, their eyes meeting as Lew searches for an inklng of understanding in Miles’ face.

“Alright, I hear you.” Miles concedes, relaxing his tight fist and wiping the drying blood on his knuckles with his shorts. Lew pats him on the back and Miles becomes aware that he’s shirtless and shivering, his body finally returning to it’s normal temprature. Inside, Miles gathers his things, his night soured by the events that just took place and his mind still scattered. Josh walks over and lectures him on self control in much the same way that Lew just has, his large frame and deep American drawl keeping Miles glued to the spot. Once the gym owner feels he’s sufficiently chastised the younger man, he nods and heads towards Adam who is nursing his jaw with an ice pack. Miles briefly considers walking over and apologising for injuring the other man but decides against it, certain that Adam would refuse to reciprocate the apology.

As he walks home, Adam’s words still ring in his ears and he struggles to maintain his composure, but as he thinks about his anger, the hot flames lapping at his insides a thought materialises which momentarily knocks the wind out of him, making him stop in his tracks.

Miles: Hey Alex, sorry about what I said to you when you tapped out last week. I didn’t mean it x

Chapter Text

—Alex —

“Are you sure about this?” James asks tentatively as Alex slips on his gloves with a steely face of determination.

“I’m fucking ready.” Alex grunts, standing up abruptly and ignoring the familiar whoosh of vertigo and the rapid thumping of his heart as he prepares to face his opponent.

“Last time you were ready and then-“ James begins but cuts himself off as Alex turns to face him with furrowed brows.

“Could you let me have this James? Just once?” Alex spits out, but restrains himself from really upsetting his coach, instead breathing in deeply and reorientating his mind to the fight ahead of him, “Trust me, I can do this.”

Across the gym Alex’s eyes fall on Miles who is stretching out his long limbs and chatting amicably with his Lew. Much like the last time he fought Miles, Alex once again feels the rush of adrenaline kick in, his body vibrating with energy that buzzes under his skin begging to be released. Every day for the past week Alex has felt the slow build of excitement, waking every morning to stretch run and train in hopes that his body won’t fail him when he needs it the most. Holding on tightly to knowledge that this fight might be one of his last and that losing is not an option. Miles has sent Alex enough taunts via text to push him over the edge, encouraging him to descend into the natural competitive nature that still bubbles up within him every time he thinks about fighting. Alex’s last few months at the club have been spent spiralling in frustration at his deteriorating strength, his health declining in a way that has worried his coach and his friends. No matter what he tries to argue, everyone seems to understand something that he doesn’t want to accept- that Alex can’t fight anymore. But Miles doesn’t seem to believe that, perhaps because he doesn’t know the extent of Alex’s health issues or perhaps because he recognises in Alex a similar desperation to keep fighting no matter what. Whatever it is, the other fighter’s ability to treat Alex as an equal, to see him as a worthy opponent means more to Alex than he can begin to express. So he does the only thing he knows how to do and jumps in the ring.

“You boys ready?” Josh asks as Miles jumps into the ring, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and nodding vigorously. Alex also nods, standing up straight, squaring his shoulders and breathing in and out as deeply as he can. His overall stillness stands in comical contrast to Miles’ enthusiasm, their demeanors are so different a casual observer may struggle to recognise the tether that connects them - their equally insatiable hunger to win.

Josh’s whistle pierces through the tension in the ring and their fight begins. Both men pull their arms up, gloves poised to punch and legs stanced to lunge and kick. As they begin to spar, punching and jabbing at each other with force and precision, Alex feels himself start to focus, his senses narrowing as he blocks out all outside stimuli. The whole world falls away into the darkness of his mind, leaving him with the feeling that nothing else matters but the man lunging towards him. Alex blocks Miles’ attack and moves in to land some body shots, suddenly face to face and chest to chest with his opponent. Muay Thai has always struck him as an intimate sport, the fighting ring a world of its own and their two bodies battling each other for physical dominance. Alex can almost taste the sweat that drips from Miles face as they continue to fight, he can feel Miles’ breath everytime they move close, see the determination in his furrowed brows, hear the impact of his gloved fists as they make contact with Miles’ body, smell the adrenaline of his opponent as they play rough.

In the ring Alex forgets everything but the need to survive the round, in his state of hyprfocus beating Miles is more important than the dizziness that comes and goes, the way his heart beats brutally in his chest, the anxiety that always overwhelms him on bad days. In this moment, even whilst backed up in one corner of the ring, Miles punching as Alex blocks his own head with his gloves, Alex feels more at home in his body and his mind than he has in weeks. Nobody in his life really understands why he keeps fighting, his parents never supported his hobby, his friends have lost patience with his stubborness and his colleague’s think he’s insane. But when he’s at his lowest, when his body let’s him down and nobody’s around to hold him up, he dreams about fighting, the fluidity of his movements, the strength of his attacks, he dreams until he’s well enough to jump back into the ring. When Miles falters slightly, Alex swoops in, landing a few kicks to his opponent’s thigh, pushing Miles to the other egde of the ring for a scuffle with their arms. James calls out some pointers and Alex just about catches the gist of his coach’s suggestions, remembering to stay balanced as Miles kicks out.

When the round ends Alex feels that he has more to give, especially because Miles has just about beat him much to his annoyance. Josh gives them a few minutes for a water break, before they jump back in for round two. Alex’s confidence grows as he lands solid punches which seem to wear Miles down. The round is not as explosive for either of them as the first one was, both settling into a steady rhythm, landing punches and kicks as well as dodging and blocking attacks. This point in any fight is where Alex’s strength as a fighter really shines through. His ability to dig in deep when other fighters begin to tire out is his greatest weapon, cultivated over more than 15 years of fighting. As they fight on, Alex finds that Miles’ concentration slips every now and then, giving him opportunities to land hits. At one point, Alex pushes Miles back against the ropes, pressing them up against one another once again and revelling in the ability to physically dominate his opponent, if only just for a few moments. He relishes the opportunity to be this close to the other man, acutely aware of the power that he has over Miles as they jab at each other, adrenaline still pumping. When Josh blows his whistle and the second round ends, Alex feels sure that he can beat Miles in the last round, but knows that the other man won’t back down from the challenge.

“You’re looking good today, just stay tight and watch his footing, he’s a little unsteady.” James suggests, handing Alex his water bottle before the last round begins. Alex nods, staring at the floor as he tries to maintain the level of focus that he’s had so far, ignoring the tell tale tremble of his fingers inside his gloves. ‘I can deal with that later’ he thinks as he jumps back into the ring.

Miles looks ready to go as they begin to spar, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he starts on the attack. This gives Alex a moment to study Miles’ stance discovering that James’ assessment, as always, is completely correct. Miles is not as sturdy in his footing when he lunges forward to punch, and that is a weakness Alex knows he can exploit. He works on gradually chipping away at Miles’ attack, going ‘low and slow’ as James likes to say, Alex puts more power into his kicks and aims them at weak points on Miles’ legs, expertly avoiding his joints which are off limits when fighting. At first he lets the other fighter gain confidence, goading Miles into punching with a good deal of his force, which allows Alex the oppurtunity to dodge and strike when Miles’ is at his least balanced. The first time he does this, Miles doesn’t seem to react, quickly gaining the upper hand, but as Alex tightens his defenses and sharpens his kicks, Miles slowly begins to crumble. Sensing that Miles’ defenses are weakening but aware that his own moves are becoming predictable Alex moves in as usual to kick with his right leg but just as Miles is ready to block, switches to his left catching the other man off guard as he receives a powerful blow. This doesn’t deter the scouser, who seemingly decides to stop letting Alex land easy kicks by moving in to clinch his opponent. Miles’ long strong arms stretch to grab hold of Alex’s Bicep and neck and he can hear nothing but heavy breathing as they grapple for dominance. One moment the two are upright, sweating and fumbling, and in the next they are on the floor, Miles looking up in wild amazement at Alex who straddles him, having managed to sweep his opponent to the mat below by kneeing Miles’ quad. Their eyes meet and all at once Alex feels himself being sucked into an endless vortex, Miles’ entire being attracts him like a magnet and he momentarily forgets that they are fighting in the ring, instead focused on Miles eyes, which glint in the light like amber jewels. Miles smirks and quickly gets up, Alex struggles to read his ambigous facial expressions and can’t recall the last time he looked at someone in the eyes so intensely. All of it catches him off balance, but he recovers swiftly, dodging Miles punches with ease and landing an upper hook which cements his victory. Josh blows his whistle and the round ends, but Alex barely has enough strength to do anything but tumble out of the ring, not looking back to notice Miles’ nose beginning to bleed from his punch. The adrenaline of his victory quickly metastasises into panic as he feels the tell tale dizziness of a bad episode. ‘I’ve pushed to far’ he thinks.

—Miles—

Miles loves the taste of blood, even as he steps out of the ring, nose leaking where Alex had landed his punch. He extends his tongue to lick the liquid as it rolls down to his lip, relishing the opportunity to startle Alex who stares at him with a barely concealed mixture of intrigue and horror. But just as he begins to cackle, unable to contain his laughter as his body ripples with amusement, he notices Alex’s face fall and in a flash the other man collapses sideways onto the floor.

“Al? The fuck?” Miles rushes over in a panic just as James turns around. His heart begins to beat furiously as he crouches over the passed out fighter, aware of the blood still dripping from his nose but unable to pull himself away from the other man.

“Oh shit.” James mutters, walking towards the two fighters with concern written all over his face. “It’s alright Miles, he’s alright.” Alex’s coach tries to reassure him but Miles can’t shake his confusion, unsure why anything about this situation could possibly be alright.

“How do you know? He’s fucking collapsed James. Shit, should we call an ambulance or something?” Miles continues to panic and other men in the room begin to notice, crowding around in a way that doesn’t stop Miles from feeling helpless and overwhelmed.

“No, just help me get his gloves off mate.” James asks carefully taking out Alex’s mouth guard as Miles unstraps the unconscious man's gloves, having just taken off his own protective gear moments ago.

“Could I ask everyone to leave the floor please, give us half an hour guys.” Josh’s loud authoritative voice cuts through the rising noise and everyone leaves the room. “What does he need?” Josh asks, handing Miles a tissue for his nose as he crouches besides James who begins to carefully manoeuvre Alex into the recovery position.

“Everything should be in his bag.” James replies, so calm in his movement and his speech that Miles begins to realise that this has clearly happened before. Josh nods and grabs the bag, setting it close by so that James can keep an eye on Alex whilst rummaging through to get a water bottle and ice pack.

Miles, sits back on his heels, mind still spinning as he rubs his buzz cut, nervous fingers tingling as he tries to remain calm in the face of growing confusion. He looks up to see Josh pacing the floor with his hand stroking his greying beard and half expects the gym owner to call an ambulance, but instead he points at James and gestures for him to come closer.

“Ok Miles give us a second, if he twitches it’s ok, just make sure he’s not hitting himself, if he comes to, offer him some water and sit him up slowly, very slowly.” James orders with authority, before grunting as he gets up and walks towards Josh. They begin a quiet but heated discussion which Miles can barely hear. The fighter’s focus remains on Alex who is beginning to twitch slightly, body tensing subtle, whilst he remains unconscious. Their fight replays in his mind and Miles tries to figure out if there were any signs from Alex that things weren’t going well. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ Miles thinks, unable to shake off the feeling that this might be his fault. What feels like a bottomless pit of guilt opens up inside of him and he spirals, eyes still glued to Alex’s face as uncomfortable memories resurface that he’s worked hard to bury.

“-a fucking liability, I can’t risk it James.” Josh’s volume rises above the strained whisper he’s maintained in his conversation with Alex’s coach. Miles looks up just as they begin to walk back towards Alex, both calm despite the tense conversation they’ve just had.

“You can head off if you need Miles, I’ve got him.” James suggests, looking over at the fighter who remains glued to Alex’s side. Miles doesn’t register the coach’s words at first, but looks up to reply just as Alex begins to stir, face contorting slightly as his eyes flicker open. All three men watch as the collapsed fighter gradually regains consciousness moving his head to look up at the three sets of eyes focussed on him. Miles has a lot of questions but restrains himself from asking any of them, instead leaning back to let James help Alex into a sitting position. In his periphery Josh stands up to leave, going to talk to the few other fighters who are still waiting in the changing room.

“Feel like shit, how long was I out?” Alex mumbles, voice hoarse and weak as he accepts the water James is offering. Miles is curious about the salt packets littering the floor whose contents James pours into the bottle but doesn’t ask, aware that his presence alone is probably already a problem for Alex.

“About 10 minutes,” James replies, reaching over to activate the ice pack by shaking it. Handing it to Alex who’s shaking hands place it around his neck.

“That’s not too bad,” Alex mutters before his eyes flick towards Miles, as if suddenly remembering where he is and the fight he’s just had. “Before you ask Miles, this wasn’t because of you.”

Miles is a little startled that Alex has read his mind, chewing nervously at a hang nail of his thumb as Alex’s words settle in. Where he assumed that confirmation would absolve him of guilt and relieve the tension he feels, Miles instead pivots to feeling concerned for Alex’s health, certain that whatever is going on has been affecting his fighting for a much longer time than the first time they fought a few weeks ago. James begins to ask Alex a series of questions which Miles barely registers, instead he stands up for the first time, stretching his stiff limbs and throwing the crusty bloody tissue he’s been holding in the bin. For a moment he feels frozen to the spot, stood by his bag watching James help Alex to his feet, their movement upwards is slowly, Alex gripping tightly to James’ arm his fingers whitening and trembling. As he stares, Miles is once again reminded of that night at the pub when Alex struggled to get up and walk even with a cane.

“How are you getting home?” Miles asks, looking over at Alex who is still wavering slightly as he sits down on a bench, his dark hair messy and damp from their fight earlier.

“Umm I usually walk,” Alex answers slowly, his chest visibly rising and falling, “but I’m not really up to that right now.” He chuckles weakly, trembling hands beginning to tap at his shoulders as he avoids eye contact with Miles, gaze falling just to the left of where Miles stands eyeing up the entrance with a visibly elevated level of trepidation written across his face.

“I’d take you home but I’m catching the train today, Sereen’s got the car,” James sighs, rubbing his hands with his face. “Miles d’you mind?”

“Course not, we live pretty close anyway you know, I’ll call a cab.” Miles replies casually trying to maintain his calm as he begins to pack up and then calls for a taxi. By the time Alex is upright again, with James helping him walk to the door and Miles grabbing both of their gym bags, most of the other fighters have cleared out for the night at the request of Josh. It takes a few seconds to get Alex into the cab but once he’s settled, all four men breathe audible sighs of relief. Miles tells the cab driver where they’re going and soon the martial arts gym along with James and Josh are smudges in the rear view. As the taxi makes it way through the dark London streets, Miles tries his best not to bother Alex who leans against the window of the car, eyes closed as his fingers grip each other tightly.

“Sorry about this, didn’t mean to ruin your evening.” Alex mumbles, eyes still closed and hands continuing to tremble.

Miles is unsure how to reply, his mouth hanging open for a while as he tries to formulate a fitting reply to Alex’s apology. “You don’t have to apologise mate, it’s not like you did it on purpose.” Alex’s eyes flicker open and he turns to face Miles in the dark, face still pallid, but not as strained as it was after he’d gained consciousness on the floor earlier.

“Glad I got to beat you before everything went south, quite literally.” Alex mutters, chuckling at his own joke in a way that makes Miles chuckle too. “Thanks for uh for not going easy on me.” There is an earnest gratitude in Alex’s words that Miles can’t move past. He hesitates for a moment unsure whether to pry, knowing that he has a tendency to bulldoze through sensitive topics with little to no tact.

“Well I guess I didn’t know that I was supposed to be going easy, you know, not that you don’t deserve- I mean obviously if I hadn’t uh fuck,” Miles groans in frustration at his racing thoughts, the last hour hitting him hard as he begins to reimagine scenarios in which Alex injured himself in ways far worse than just passing out because of Miles. His guilt returns flooding his body in a way that overwhelms his ability to form coherent thoughts. “I’m really sorry, I know you said that it wasn’t my fault but I can’t- I keep thinking-“

“Miles, don’t. Listen it’s just part of the thing. You didn’t cause it, it just happens, would’ve happened if I fought anyone else today. Probably would’ve happened if I hadn’t fought anyone too.” Alex tries to reassure him but Miles feels even more confused, unsure what to say in the face of the other man’s ambiguity. Before he can ask the question that has been swirling on the tip of his tongue for weeks the cab stops outside Alex’s house. Miles is amused to find that the other man’s house is almost identical to his, the facade of the home mirroring his own with only a few minor differences.

When he turns to face Alex, the other man’s face is tight with anxiety, lips curled inwards as Miles begins to realise the man besides him still needs his help. Without a word Miles pays the driver, grabs their bags and steps out of the door to walk around the cab and open Alex’s door. Miles wonders how often Alex has been in this position, especially when the other man grabs tightly to Miles outstretched hand, fingers gripping so strongly that Miles struggles to reconcile Alex’s visible weakness with his tactile strength.

“There’s a spare key under the mat.” Alex breathes a sigh of relief after Miles finds the key and lets them both in, still unsteady on his feet as he slinks over to his couch and slowly lowers himself onto the plush red velvet seats, here he toes his shoes off and reclines comfortably. Miles follows close behind, sitting down with Alex and trying his best not to shatter the relative calm that has descended over the both of them, but he’s always found it hard to sit still so soon stands to stretch and wander around the room, fascinated by how similar Alex’s front room is laid out, but tickled by how different the other man’s interior design is.

The walls are covered in posters, some are of old films and old bands others are of professional sports photography, iconic football moments that Miles is delighted to recognise. As he continues to look around Miles notices the obvious colour scheme, the red of the couch and the various lamps scattered around the room. Miles stops and hovers over Alex vintage record player itching with curiosity at what Alex is into.

“D’you mind if I turn on the lamp?” Miles asks, fingers fiddling with the little switch of the antique lamp situated on a shelf besides Alex’s record collection. Alex nods and Miles flips the switch pleased by the sultry red light that washes over the room which lets him browse the other man’s music with ease.

“It’s called POTS, the thing that I have,” Alex begins, his voice quiet but steady as he looks up towards Miles, “I umm- it’s why I passed out earlier and why I get so dizzy and it sort of fucks with everything.” Alex’s voice tapers off as he says ‘everything’ gesturing at his whole body to convey what exactly he means. Miles returns to sit on the couch with him.

“Ok, so you’ve passed out before then?” Miles asks, watching as Alex fiddles with the edges of his Muay Thai shorts, rubbing the silky black trimming between his finger tips.

“Happens when I push to hard, like today.” Alex sighs, “And now I think- well it’s over for me, Muay Thai I mean, at least for a little while.” Miles’ heart breaks for Alex but he tries his best not to convey pity suddenly aware that this has clearly been the other man’s reality for a while. Instead he thinks about the tense conversation he overheard between James and Josh whilst Alex was passed out, beginning to understand the weight of the situation.

“I know this might seem- well its a bit weird to say given the umm situation but I’m really glad we got to fight, properly. Especially since I was such an asshole last time, which I’m sorry about by the way.” Miles winces as he thinks about their first encounter, surprised that his brash attitude hadn’t completely put Alex off.

“Miles, it’s ok you already apologised, plus it’s not like I was entirely pleasant either.” Alex shrugs.

“I know I just wanted to say it in person,” Miles whispers, raising his hand to rub his buzzcut with his fingers. They sit in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts with the activity of the day beginning to weigh them both down.

“Could I ask you one last favour,” Alex turns to face Miles, their eyes meeting briefly for the first time in a while. Miles nods and waits for Alex to ask the question he seems to be wrestling with, “could you uh could you help me upstairs.” There’s a glimmer of shame in his request which Miles chooses to ignore focussing instead on the trust that Alex is placing in him, with what is undoubtedly a vulnerable situation.

“Course yeah.” Miles stands and extends his hand out again just like he did outside the cab, glad to be of service in a way that he doesn’t usually get to the chance to be. Alex rises slowly gripping Miles hand like a life line once again. They stop at the stairs and Miles can feel Alex shrink in the face of the obstacle. Without thinking Miles turns to Alex and with as little fanfare as he can muster, asks to carry Alex. Alex’s face registers as shocked, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape, but his body accepts Miles offer and the musician gently picks Alex up, holding him bridal style as they ascend into the darkness.

Alex asks to be dropped off in the bathroom and Miles obliges, lowering him gently until Alex’s feet settle on the cold tile flooring of the small room. Once Alex has closed the door behind him, Miles turns and unsure of what to do but aware that he might still be needed, decides to explore. Curiosity compels him to look around Alex’s room, noting the bare walls and sparse decor, it’s a stark contrast to the highly stylised interior design downstairs. Alex’s bed is large and sturdy, covered in messy white sheets that Miles brushes his fingers over, the texture soft and pleasant as he makes contact. When he turns his head, Miles’ eyes catch a glint of something that shines from the corner of the room where a green upholstered wooden armchair is piled with clothes. Attracted by the shiny object Miles walks over to investigate and finds Alex’s black cane, it’s shiny cyclindrical shape easily catching the light from the moonlight streaming in through the window. He picks it up, surprised by how lightweight it is, turning it over in his hands and stroking the glossy finish. Knowing now what Alex is dealing with, the object gains more significance as Miles thinks back to that night at the pub.

“I see you’ve found my old friend,” Alex’s voice cuts through Miles’ contemplation, and he jumps, so startled he almost drops the cane. When he turns around he spots Alex leaning against the door frame, having changed into a vest and boxers he smirks easily at Miles’ flustered fumbling.

“Uh yeah,” Miles grins, placing the mobility aid down and walking towards Alex as the other man slowly makes his way to his bed. When he reaches it Alex settles in and Miles seeing the slight tremble of his hands decides to help bring the bedding up and over Alex’s body.

“Thanks, for everything today.” Alex whispers, looking up in a way that strikes Miles as devastatingly earnest.

“Yeah it’s whatever,” Miles unable to handle the warmth spreading across his chest and beginning to rub his blushing cheeks.

“I mean it, I couldn’t possibly have gotten further than me door if you weren’t here.” Alex remains earnest, his eyes searching Miles face in their own skittish way.

“Yeah, I guess you’d’ve had to let the cabbie carry you upstairs.” Miles smiles at the idea and when Alex giggles in response he’s reminded again of that night in the pub and his longing to make Alex laugh as loudly and as brightly as he had that day.

“I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers.” Alex mutters dramatically as he settles further into bed.

“A Streetcar Named Desire?” Miles asks bemused at Alex’s expression of surprise, “don’t be so shocked, I’m not a complete idiot you know!” Miles teases.

“No of course not,” Alex concedes, eyes drooping a little. Miles stands over him and watches for a few moments before quietly beginning to make his exist.

“Night Al,” he whispers at the door and the other man waves back before finally falling asleep.

Chapter Text

—Alex —

As Alex steps into the lift headed up for his first and only meeting of the morning, he remembers why freelancing seemed like such an attractive option when the opportunity was first thrust upon him. Living on someone else’s schedule has never been pleasant but these past few days have been particularly grating. On one hand he’s grateful that most of the meetings have been online but his struggle to get up and out of the house earlier in the day cemented his hatred for commuting into work. As he leans against the metallic wall to catch his breath, Alex can’t help but circle back round to the thoughts that have plagued him for weeks. Miles has been at the fore front of his mind for days and most of the thoughts have ranged from a desperate need to reach out and contact the other man to an overwhelming embarrassment at being so vulnerable in front of him. He shuffles out of the lift, feeling a little self-conscious about bringing his cane to work, and acknowledging that without it he’s unmoored in a sea of danger.

“Alex! Morning, it’s so great to see you. Hope you made it in ok?” Alexa’s bright smile and sunny disposition almost makes up for the pain Alex can feel radiating from various points in his body as they walk towards where their meeting is scheduled. He settles down in a chair opposite her in the conference room, sighing deeply as he tries to breathe through the tightness in his chest.

“Yeah I made it,” Alex nods staring at the large table between them. Remembering that the conventions of friendly professional small talk demand that he ask her a follow up question, so he looks up, “uh you had a uh a busy week?” He stumbles over his words slightly, grateful that she answers without drawing attention to his awkward attempt to carry on the conversation. They talk a little swapping empty words as they wait for her other colleagues to arrive.

“Alex mate it’s been a while, you’re looking good.” Waseem strolls in, unbothered by how late he is and barely looking at Alex before settling down next to Alexa and staring at his phone.

“Thanks, feel like shit,” Alex mutters so quietly that the senior editor doesn’t notice. Alexa does and chuckles a little under her breath adding a little levity to what is an uncomfortable situation for Alex to be in. He’s always had the distinct impression that Waseem doesn’t like him, even during his brief stint as an intern a decade ago Alex always found a way to attract the other man’s ire. As they wait Alex’s fingers grow restless picking at scabs near his nails until the skin around the cuticle of his left forefinger begins to sting and he winces as he pulls away from the sensitive area, annoyed that he’s let this self destructive stim take over.

“So sorry I’m late lovelies! Alex you’re here, that’s wonderful. Did you have any trouble getting in? Have you got everything Lex, from the email?” Emma rushes in in her usual fashion, talking rapidly as she settles down at the head of the table. Alex always gets the impression that she’s just running in from an extreme weather event outside, her windswept hair and general demeanour suggesting her trip to the conference room was far more eventful than everyone else’s. Alex barely has a chance to reply, always unsure whether the questions Emma asks are actually meant to be answered. In the end it doesn’t matter as the meeting swiftly moves forward.

By the time their meeting ends, Alex is ready to head home and unable to understand why Emma had asked for him to be present in the first place. Fairly sure that the entire meeting, elaborate presentation included, could have been an email. Alex rises slowly last to leave the room as he takes his time.

“Al! Al! Just a sec,” Alexa calls after him, stopping him in his tracks as she practically skips towards him. He’s only managed to make it a few feet out of the conference room.

“Do you need something?” He asks, leaning slightly on his cane but fairly sure he could do without it at this present moment.

“I was just thinking it’d be good to get some overlap with the sports and culture section, maybe a few articles to tie them together.” Alexa asks, her face open with expectation until Alex’s blank stare forces her to clarify, “Was that too vague, sorry. I just- I miss reading your stuff and I know you’re editing and you’ve got the Euros to prep for but, basically I’m trying to commission you. Don’t you miss doing those culture critic articles and the interviews you used to do?”

Alex thinks for a moment, eyes landing on the rainbow pin on the lapel of Alexa’s pinstriped blazer, the glinting gold border drawing his attention as he contemplates the offer she’s giving him. “Well I could fit it in, but it’ll only really work if I’ve got something to write about, so I can’t make any promises.” Alex shrugs non-comitally but Alexa seems satisfied with his response nodding with a grin as she promises to email him her ideas before walking back to her office.

As he walks towards his train station, Alex can’t help but think about Miles, Alexa’s pin reminding him of the musician. A few weeks have passed since his last episode and he hasn’t seen Miles since. They’d texted sporadically in the first few days after Miles had brought Alex home, but Alex has always found it difficult to maintain conversations over text, struggling to understand the tone and emotion behind the words on his screen. Every couple of days Miles will send him a video or a photo and Alex can’t help but reply back, secretly glad that Miles doesn’t seem to mind his obvious communication difficulties. But he’s also unable to shake the embarrassment that rolls over him whenever he thinks about that night, the euphoria of his victory followed by the literal decline of his body. Miles had been gentle and gracious and patient, despite barely knowing Alex and having no obligation to be as kind as he was. He can’t stop thinking about Miles gently picking him up, strong and reliable as Alex grabbed hold of him, calm in the face of a strange situation. Alex has never wanted anyone more intimately and for that reason alone he knows that Miles is off limits.

Miles: you up for hearing that song I was talking about earlier? x

Alex stares at the message, surprised by the synchronicity of his thoughts and Miles’ text.

Alex: Sure.

He’s always been a stickler for proper punctuation and grammar, it makes him a great editor and an easy target for his friends who are always amused by his rigid formality. Alex manages to get a seat on his train, his cane helping to signal others of his invisible need, he can acknowledge that there are some benefits to the mobility aid. By the time he get’s home Alex can feel the familiar fatigue weighing him down and is glad to settle on his settee, flicking the TV on as he checks to see if Miles has responded. There’s something a little desperate about how quickly he fishes for his phone in his pocket, but he pushes his squirming reticence aside and eagerly clicks on the audio file Miles has sent him. He leans back and closes his eyes, letting the music take him to a better place. As he listens Alex can’t help the smile that spreads easily across his face, Miles’ music bouying up his mood as he begins to piece together the sentiment of the song. For a moment he’s transported to the 1994 World Cup, 8 years old rocking back on forth on his knees, crouched in front of his grandparents old TV, watching the Italian team dominate the field. When the song ends Alex peels his eyes open and immediately begins to draft a message to Miles, an idea forming in his head.

Alex: I really loved that Miles. It reminded me of watching Baggio during that ‘94 World Cup final, really brought back the memories.

Miles: thanks mate! really proud of this one and Ive got a boss music video planned with the man himself next week x

Alex’s almost drops his phone when he reads that message, calling Miles immediately without thinking about what he’s doing.

“You being serious?” Alex asks, forgetting to be polite as he thrums with energy, fingers tapping rhythmically on his thigh.

“Yeah yeah man, we sent him the song and he loved it, said he’d want to meet me. I’m fucking shitting meself mate, can’t believe it.” Miles replies breathlessly and Alex is pleasantly surprised by how willing Miles is to skip the drudgery of small talk.

“Fuck Miles, that’s amazing.” Alex can’t think of anything else to say, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks about Miles meeting Baggio. “I umm I have a proposition for you. Not like that- not not that! I just uh well I think I’m gonna start properly interviewing people again and uh well you’re a musician who loves sport, it’s kind of perfect for this thing I’m doing. Obviously you can say no but umm yeah I think- I think it’d be…” Alex loses steam as he becomes self conscious of his rambling halting speech.

“Sounds cool man, I’m well up for that. It’d be a proper interview right, like for a publication?” Miles asks, still eager despite Alex’s poor pitch.

“Yeah yeah, umm with the publication I work with sometimes, I’ll have to talk to uh to your manager but- so it’d be good to get their information. When are you meeting Baggio?” Alex asks, mind whirring as he begins to envision seeing Miles again. He’s surprised by how much his body reacts to the thought of the other man, fingers still stimming in excitement as he sits up to grab his laptop.

“I’ll send all that over. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, be back on Sunday I think. D’you wanna set this up for next week?” Miles seems eager on the other end of the line and Alex can’t help but smile.

“Sure. I uh hope you have- have a good time.” Alex replies quietly beginning to tire as he leans back in his seat.

“Bloody hell it’s really starting to hit me now, really don’t want to make a fool of meself you know? He’s been my hero for so long I don’t want him thinking I’m weird or whatever.” Miles mutters and Alex can sense that there’s more to what he’s saying but he doesn’t pry.

“You’re like the most charming person I’ve ever met Miles, he’s gonna love you.” Alex replies without thinking about what he’s saying, freezing as his brain processes what his mouth has just let slip.

Miles giggles on the other end of the line clearly delighted by the compliment, “why thank you Mr Turner. I gotta go, Maxie needs his lunch, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

Alex lets himself lie back down, returning to his daydreams with ease as Miles’ face, his voice, his laugh loop through Alex’s mind. Permanent features in the endless carousel that is the writer’s growing obsession with the musician.

—Miles —

Miles is sure that if Alex were any more agitated, he’d be vibrating off the walls. He watches as Alex rushes around his kitchen, talking a mile a minute about classic football and insisting that Miles stay put as he performs his host duties. When Alex finally stops, settling down on a chair across from Miles at the kitchen table, Miles worries that his presence is putting undue pressure on Alex. Maxie lies contentedly between his feet under the table and Miles is glad the puppy is asleep.

“Are you- are you ok?” Miles is unsure how to broach the topic of the other man’s illness without feeling nosy or inappropriate but he can’t ignore the trembling in Alex’s hands, his heaving deep breathes and his flush cheeks.

“Yeah m’fine, you don’t have to worry I uh I promise I won’t faint on you again. Sssorry ‘bout that by the way I uh- well it wasn’t my finest moment.” Alex apologises and laughs bitterly avoiding Miles eyes as he rubs the edge of the hard wood table.

Miles is momentarily stunned, mouth hanging open as he struggles to process Alex’s words, “Al, why are you- It’s ok, I- I didn’t mind the other day you know, it wasn’t a problem.”

Alex blinks up at him, eyes shiny and round in disbelief and Miles gets the impression that Alex hasn’t been given as much grace as Miles is offering him now. It makes Miles stomach sour and he tries his best not to let pity leak out into his facial expression, straightening up and pulling out the football shirt Baggio signed for him. When the writer glimpses the blue fabric his eyes light up and the awkward topic they are dancing around is dropped in favour of the reason for their meeting in the first place.

“Holy shit, can I?” Alex breathes out, face brightening as he reaches over to pick the classic football shirt up, holding it at arms length as he stares admiringly at the piece of clothing.

“I’m getting it framed, can’t have it getting old and worn.” Miles beams with pride feeling the all too familiar joy as he remembers his encounter.

“Do you want- we could uh get- get started now if you’d like. I’m sort of excited to get all this recorded.” Alex places the shirt between them on the table and begins fiddling with his recording device clearly eager to jump into the interview.

They begin shortly after and Miles watches in wonder as Alex transforms from a jittery nervous wreck into a focused professional. There is an intensity and a seriousness to the way Alex asks questions that Miles finds slightly sexy and he has to stop himself from indulging in that line of thought as he answers basic questions about the beginning of his career. Once they move onto the topic at hand he can’t help but excitedly rub his hands together.

“Tell me about Baggio,” Alex asks simply, eyes soft and encouraging as they briefly meet Miles’.

“Well this whole song started whilst I was thinking back to me childhood and that’s really what the songs about but when I was writing it I was remembering being 8 watching the ‘94 World Cup with that Italian team. They were all sort of- well I’d just never seen men who looked like that before. Like with all the hair and stuff, as a kid from the Wirral that was all new too me. And yeah I just thought Baggio was sexy as fuck.” Miles pauses to giggle as Alex’s professional facade cracks to reveal amused astonishment.

Alex clears his throat and the mask slips back on, “how was it meeting him?”

“Oh mate it was a dream come true. We got to his place and he was stood by his house at the end of his drive and I just- well I didn’t know whether to run into his arms or to walk slowly or what. But I got to him and he hugged me, invited me into meet his daughter and his wife. It was a lovely time really- got the wine out and had a meal, yeah it was amazing man.” Miles drifts off a little, distracted by his memories. When he looks back towards Alex the other man is looking at him with unmasked fondness, eyes glimmering in wonder at Miles’ experience. It’s an expression that tugs gently at Miles’ heart strings as he slowly realises how much he desperately wants to capture this moment in time and revisit it forever.

They move on the other topics and Miles discovers that talking to Alex, even within a rigid structure, is as easy as breathing. The other man remains professional, but Miles catches glimpses of a different more care free version of Alex beneath the serious facade. There are moments when he looks up and their eyes meet, moments when he feels the tender warmth produced by real connection growing and spreading within him. Miles wonders if Alex can feel it too, the energy that seems to swirl around them as they continue to talk.

Their interview comes to a natural end and Alex clears away his things, looking very satisfied with himself. Miles stays sat at the table, reluctant to leave and eager to keep talking.

“So d’you do this stuff for Sports coverage as well?” Miles asks, eyes locked onto the way the writer’s light blue T-shirt fits snugly around him, emphasising the slope of Alex’s back, the defined muscles of his broad shoulders in contrast to his slender waist. He openly ogles Alex until the other man turns around, Miles can’t help but blush and look away, afraid to be caught staring.

“A little bit a few years ago. But I’ve actually not done anything like this in a long time, I’m more of an Editor these days.” Alex replies wistfully, sitting back down across from Miles and leaning back in his chair, his left hand finding its way to the short hairs above his nape.

Miles marvels at how quickly Alex returns to this more familiar version of himself, slipping out of his professional mask to reveal himself once again. It makes him wonder how much of Alex he’s really seen, how much of Alex is hidden from view only to peak out at opportune moments. He thinks about that night when he took the other man home, how easy it felt to be so intimate, how natural it was to be so close, how nice it felt to be able to help. But, there’s a question that has been swirling through Miles’ mind for the entirety of the interview, one which nags at his sense of polite conversation especially as he tries to assess whether it is appropriate to ask prying questions in someone else’s home. But something in the way Alex is looking at him, the openess and trust in his face prompts Miles to follow his curiosity.

“So umm I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what uh how do you deal with things if you live alone?” Miles asks tentatively, spinning the chunky gold ring he wears on his right pinky finger, the nervous habit appearing as he waits for Alex’s answer.

“Oh eh pretty poorly if I’m being honest,” Alex chuckles and leans forward, eyes landing in his lap in a way that makes Miles worry he’s made the writer uncomfortable. “Well Matt comes over sometimes when things are really bad, but he’s been trying to get me to hire someone in or whatever. I don’t know- I just well I’ve got a cleaning lady. But it’s not the same…” Alex trails off, growing quiet as he contemplates something that is clearly an ongoing conversation. There’s a dreaminess to Alex that Miles is beginning to notice, a quality about him that he’s been unable to pin down in the short time he’s known the other man. The way his eyes roam and wander around a room, the slow and soft way drawl of his deep voice as he talks. At first Miles had assumed Alex was just aloof and perhaps a little arrogant, but that has quickly been replaced by the understanding that this is just the way Alex is. Miles doesn’t mind, finding it rather calming to spend time with someone who naturally soothes the more frenetic sides of himself.

Alex suddenly sits back upright, blushing slightly and shaking his head, “sorry I drifted off there, I’m a lot more tired than I thought” he apologises sheepishly and Miles can’t help but smile back.

“Is that your way of telling me to head out?” Miles teases, beginning to wonder if he’s overstaying his welcome in the other man’s kitchen and becoming aware of Maxie stirring awake below the table.

“No no, uh I wasn’t implying anything with that sorry. You can- you can stay as long as you like. It’s a- it’s nice to have some company actually.” Alex frantically replies hands raised to gesture for Miles to stay, an unexpected flash of panic in his eyes. Miles is secretly glad that the other man still wants to talk to him, but another part of him is concerned by how quickly Alex rushes to apologise, wandering if other people often accuse the writer of implying things he isn’t. And there is that lingering wistful expression on Alex’s face. One so vulnerable that Miles feels the impulse to reach over and grab the other man’s trembling hands, to take them gently within his own and reassure him that everything is still ok. To somehow draw out the loneliness that seems to permeate Alex’s words.

Instead he changes the subject, “I’ve got a show coming up at The Electric Ballroom next week, d’you fancy writing something for that? No pressure you know, but me manager’s been nagging me about doing more press for this record and I figured you and your mates might be up for coming to the gig anyway.” He tries his best to stay calm, but the thrumming nervous energy within him ripples to the surface and he finds himself staring intently at Alex. The relief that floods Miles’ body when Alex nods and smiles is a little embarrassing but he can’t help remain eager, legs bouncing a little as he claps his hands with joy. His excited movements alert his puppy, who sits up fully and emerges from underneath the table to look up at him.

“Heya son, up from your nap?” Miles reaches down to pick Max up, scratching him gently behind the ear as he brings the puppy up to his lap. Alex’s smile grows bigger and brighter as he watches the little white puppy stick his tongue out.

“Hey buddy,” Alex leans forward, arm stretched to pet Max gently, clearly enamoured by the small white dog. “So d’you bring him everywhere then?” Alex asks as he leans back again, eyes flitting between Miles and Max and the table.

“Pretty much, except the Muay Thai gym. Leave him at home for that cause I’m only gone a few hours at most. And little Maxie’s asleep, aren’t you son.” Miles kisses Max on the head a few times, happy to see how cheerful the puppy is after his nap.

“You know, I did think about getting a service dog at one point,” Alex remarks, rubbing his chin and staring up at the ceiling briefly as if searching for his words in the great expanse of white above them.

“Really?” Miles asks, unaware that was an option.

“Yeah,” Alex nods and yawns, leaning back and sighing with slightly bleary eyes as Miles decides that it might be best to let the writer rest despite his earlier protest. Certain that Alex will insist that he’s fine again, Miles decides to use Max as a convenient way to make an exit, aware that he doesn’t want to draw attention to Alex obvious exhaustion.

“Alright, I gotta take this fella out for a walk,” Miles puts Max down and the little puppy perks up at the mention of a walk, yelping and spinning in circles. Alex nods and Miles stands, stretching out and watching as Alex slowly does the same, steadying himself against the table.

They part ways at the front door, Miles reminding Alex to let his friends know about his show on Friday as he walks out onto the pavement. When he turns to wave goodbye, he feels that familiar tug again as he watches Alex leaning against his door post, gently waving with his usual care free half smile. The late afternoon's sunset scatters golden rays across the neighbourhood and Miles can’t help but marvel at how perfectly Alex’s face catches the light, soft and golden and bright. He briefly considers rushing back to steal a kiss but turns away to cross the road, determined not to let himself get carried away.

Chapter Text

— Alex—

Alex has never felt more unsure of himself than he does now as he stares at his face in the mirror. For hours he’s been wandering around his house in agitated anticipation for Miles’ show, unable to relax as his nerves get the best of him. Miles had texted him earlier to let Alex know him and his friends were on the guestlist and reassured him that they’d be let into the venue without a fuss. Alex is ashamed of how many times he’s read that message in the last few hours, almost memorising the words as he works to maintain his anxiety in the only way he knows. Repetition and rumination. He leaves the bathroom, compelled to double and triple check that his brown leather satchel has everything he needs in it, paying close attention for his notebook and pen, water, salt, ice pack, ear plugs. Things he’s certain he’ll need to survive the evening. And of course his cane which leans up against the arm of his settee, a reliable friend for what he knows will be a physically tasking event.

Above his worries for his physical health, Alex can’t stop noticing how thinking about Miles is making him feel. He’s becoming more and more aware of the strange mixture of excitement and longing and fear, that twists like a three stranded rope growing taut within him and creating a tension he is struggling to pull away from. If he were a decade younger and a little less jaded, he’d perhaps attribute his agitation to the tell tale butterflies one feels when they think of potential love interests. But Alex can’t let himself consciously make that connection, afraid that he will slide down the slippery slope that is becoming infatuated with someone new. It’s been a while since he’s let himself follow his heart down that path, the years of declining health and a desperation to protect the most sensitive vulnerable parts of him have let that path become overgrown with uncertainty and fear that prevents him from wandering through into the treacherous wasteland of love and romance.

His phone rings and draws him away from his thoughts.

“You ready Al?” Matt’s voice is a small comfort in his state of emotional agitation.

“Yeah yeah, you close?” Alex asks, clearing his throat as he becomes aware that he hasn’t talked to anyone all day. In a sudden rush of panic he wonders if he’ll even be able to talk to Miles once they get to the show, but he lets the fear pass him, shaking his head to rid himself of his more irrational thoughts.

“We’re outside actually, just pulled up.” Matt replies and cuts the call.

Alex gathers himself together, remembering to breathe and trying to stay calm. He picks up his bag, grabs his cane and checking his appearance in the mirror one final time. The brown leather jacket he slips into fits well and as he rubs the smooth surface of the jacket’s cuff between his forefinger and thumb Alex is certain it is acting as a safety blanket for his anxieties. He’d spent a long time trying to pull together an appropriate outfit for the show, landing finally on a classic his favourite white graphic T-shirt, dark pinstripe pants, black leather boots and the brown vintage leather jacket he zips up before heading out of the door.

“Took you long enough,” Nick tuts as Alex slips into the car and Alex doesn’t respond, slightly peeved that he’s squished in the back next to Jamie who looks half asleep depsite it only being 6 in the evening. They make their way with little fanfare, lucky to be driving through London on clear roads under a clear sky. Something popular but nondescript plays on the radio as Alex stares out of the window, already cycling through conversation starters and possible scenarios as he tries to anticipate how well the evening will go.

He doesn’t realise he’s rocking back and forth until Jamie places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Al, you alright?” His friend asks, concern giving away to mild amusement as Alex turns to blush and nod. Jamie has always had a way of being able to read his mind and even now as they park a few streets away from the venue, Alex is sure that his friend understands why he’s suddenly so nervous. Miles remains at the forefront of his mind even as the small group talk about other things whilst they head to the back entrance of the building. Just as Miles had described, they are let in by a man who they assume is part of Miles’ team and head into the building.

Walking through the backstage area of the venue feels like taking a trip back in time, and Alex finds himself thinking about the start of his career with a wistful glance at the dark walls of the backstage area of the venue. He can’t help but reflect on how a much younger version of himself had spent hours and hours in venues like this, interviewing artists he barely cared about in hopes that he’d be able to build up his portfolio.

It doesn’t take long for the small group to find their way to Miles green room, where the singer appears to be joyfully warming up with the rest of his band. When Miles spots the men walking into the small dark room he grins from ear to ear and rushes over excitedly to meet them. Alex hangs back a little and watches as his friends give Miles big hugs and enthusiastic pats on the back. Something about the situation pleases him but he also feels a little shy, still worried that his growing feelings will shine through his facade of casual indifference. Without realising, Miles has stopped right in front of him and Alex is startled out of his thoughts by the singer pulling him in for a tight hug. Alex lets out a little yelp that would be embarrassing if the room wasn’t so loud, but quickly accepts his fate in Miles’ tight embrace. The hug is deeper and lasts longer than any other contact he’s had in a while and as Alex hugs Miles back, he begins to worry that the other man is somehow pulling his entire soul out of his body, afraid that if they don’t let go soon, Alex may never recover the parts of himself that Miles is siphoning out of him.

They do eventually move apart, giggling and smiling as Miles leads Alex to one of the few seats in the room. It’s a simple gesture, but warms Alex’s heart anyway and he can’t help but be grateful that Miles doesn’t make a fuss. In the cramped dark green room surrounded by close friends and strangers Alex only has eyes for Miles, the singer resumes his dancing in the middle of the room and shines like a beacon of light. Even as the overstimulation of the loud music and loud conversation threaten to drown Alex, his eyes are trained to Miles’ lithe figure backlit and casting shadows around the room.

Eventually, Miles’ stage manager calls for him and the band to head to the stage and Alex has to snap out of his dazed admiration, dragged back to reality by Matt who looks at him with a knowing expression. The side of stage at the venue is a great place to watch Miles perform and Alex is grateful he doesn’t have to battle it out with the people in the pit who already look like they’re ready to kick off at any moment.

As Miles walk on music begins to play and he throws back an excited grin, the entire venue erupts in anticipation. Alex feels his own excitement begin to rise and as his heart beats faster and faster, wishes he had somewhere to sit down. But given how little space there is resolves to simply grit his teeth and lean on his cane for support instead.

Miles’ set goes by in a blur and Alex almost forgets the entire purpose of being at the gig in the first place. He quickly scrambles to pull out his notebook and pen, taking cursory notes and looking through a set list one of his friends found. The show is electric and the crowd bursts at the seams with energy, even during the slower songs. Miles of course takes it all in stride, singing and playing like his entire life depends on it. The display is mesmerising and Alex can barely look away, eyes glued once again to the man who continues to surprise him.

When Miles plays Baggio, he takes a moment to talk about the song and Alex almost can’t believe his ears when the musician turns towards him and dedicates the song to Alex. His friends, laugh and pat his back clearly amused by Alex’s shocked face. The shock wears off and his heart fills with something he thinks resembles love, but is too scared to examine its contents any closer.

What is less pleasant and becoming harder to ignore is the pain that is shooting up from his feet to his back, radiating heat as he shuffles around slightly, lifting one leg after another on an attempt to alleviate the ache that grows. But it’s impossible to push away and suddenly the spell breaks.

“Fuck, I need to sit down,” Alex groans as he leans heavily on his cane, somehow Matt hears his complaint over the sound of the music.

“Come on, let’s take a break,” his friend gestures towards the backstage area and Alex reluctantly follows.

Matt looks back at him with concern and slows down to help Alex stay on his feet. They make their way back to the green room and Alex immediately collapses onto the same couch he was sat in half an hour before. This time he closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing rather than the pain in his legs or the tremor of his hands as he covers his eyes.

“Drink this Al,” Matt helpful rummages through Alex’s satchel and finds some water.

Alex nods in thanks, unable to do more than grunt and chug as the world becomes less hazy but his pain doesn’t disappear. He can hear the sound of Miles voice ringing through the venue and feels disappointed by how much he’s missing out on by being back stage. Matt seems to notice his despair and quietly begins to ramble about the football match he saw last week in an attempt to distract Alex. But as he sinks further into the seat and his own misery, Alex can’t shake the thought that maybe this was all a mistake. Surely, Miles doesn’t deserve to have to deal with him. It’s a thought that slices through all the tender spots that have been left exposed by Miles’ presence in Alex’s life and he begins to regret getting this close to someone who clearly has more potential than he ever will. The realisation leaves him feeling cold and he sits up in an attempt to leave the venue before Miles comes back and has to look at his sorry state.

“Ca-can you take me home?” Alex whispers, meeting Matt’s eyes for a brief moment before droppinghis gaze back down to his lap.

“You sure you don’t want to wait for everyone to get back?” Matt asks, worry evident in his voice.

“Please,” Alex whispers again, letting go of any strength he had been storing up for Miles.

Matt calls for a cab as they head out of the venue, Alex is too lost in thought to pay much attention. His head and his heart beginning to ache as he considers that this might be the last time he sees Miles again. Part of him knows it cruel to ghost the other man, especially as they’re friendship has grown, but Alex feels they’re wandering into dangerous territory and he’s not willing to put Miles through everything it takes to be a part of his life. He knows the Miles could handle his health issues, but Alex is wracked with guilt at the thought of being selfish enough to weigh the singer down. It’s a terrible thought that overwhelms his emotions, pushing him to choke up in the back of the cab. Alex is thankful when his friend doesn’t pry and he quickly wipes away his emerging tears. It’ll be better this way, he’s certain of it, Miles will be better off without him.

— Miles —

Miles jumps out of the ring after a brutal sparring session with a new guy from out of town. He can’t remember his name but is fairly sure it doesn’t matter and it’s not as though he’s looking to make any new friends. He’s pretty much over trying to make new friends after Alex.

“Take a break Miles!” Lew calls out from the other side of the gym and Miles nods, stripping himself of his protective gear and heading to his bag to grab a towel. But as he reaches into his paisley duffel, realises he forgot to pack one in his rush to leave the house on time. He grunts in frustration and looks towards his coach with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Fucking forgot me towel didn’t I,” Miles exhales and stands.

“There’ll be some down in the basement.” Lew points towards the door that leads to the supply room everyone calls the basement.

Miles nods and heads downstairs, beginning to feel the soreness of his muscles as he descends into semi darkness. He’s relieved that the bin full of clean spare towels is only a few feet away from the stairs and quickly turns on his heals to run back up the steps but he hears the sound of thudding coming from the practice room and curiosity overtakes him. He pushes open the swinging double doors and stops dead in his tracks as his eyes fall on the bare sweaty back of Alex Turner. For a moment all he can do is look at the other man who rapidly throws heavy blows at a battered old punching bag that swings from the ceiling.

Alex stops once he realises he’s being watched and turns to meet Miles’ furious gaze. They both stare at each other for a moment, until Miles’ skin begins to itch and he can’t stand to stay still any longer.

He lunges a half step forward, “what the fuck?”

“Miles!” Alex’s voice trembles and cracks a little as his eyes widen, caught off-guard and shifting his gaze away from Miles’ piercing stare.

“Thanks for the review by the way, where the fuck have you been!” Miles can’t shake the feelings of betrayal that course through him. Part of him feels it’s a little embarrassing to feel this worked up about a man he has only known for a few months, but the sudden absence revealed that his feelings perhaps were deeper than he’d originally expected.

“At home mostly,” Alex replies quietly, his eyes having drifting to the floor.

Miles can still feel the anger piercing through him, the uncomfortably sharp realisation that he does still care about Alex leaves him momentarily speechless and he chooses that moment to dry the sweat from his face.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as easily as the sweat trickling down his face, and he cringes internally at how quickly his resolve has crumbled. Knowing that he can’t take the confession back and accepting that he doesn’t want to, Miles pushes forward, both literally and figuratively moving closer to Alex who still stands with his head tilted down.

When he gets so close that Alex can no longer ignore him, the other man sighs and looks up, “Miles, I can’t-“

Their lips meet before Alex can say anything else. It’s messy and breathless and both men jostle for control, lips locked together and trembling hands finding purchase on cheeks and chins, necks and backs. For a moment the only thing that matters is their need to be close, to meld into one strange squirming creature, desperate to draw pleasure where pain has been for so long.

Miles pulls away first, panting and dazed with numb lips and a heart that feels ready to burst. He glimpses the hint of a smile from Alex before the other man plunges in for another round, hands more frantic this time as their game of tug and war continues. Eventually they have to pull apart, and this time Alex’s smile is wide and bright, brilliant in its unashamed joy.

Miles steps back to laugh breathlessly, hands fixed on his hips as he looks up towards the low water-stained ceiling. They’re both quiet for a moment, each trying to organise their own thoughts, when Miles looks back towards Alex with the desire to be close again and the desperation for an answer to his original question.

“Oh come here you,” Miles pulls Alex into a clinch and they begin an impromptu struggle, both laughing and giggling as they try to pull the other onto the floor. Alex gives in easily and Miles lowers them swiftly to the mats below, where he straddles the writer and begins to kiss him again. This time his lips don’t stay on Alex’s lips for long, beginning to wander towards his cheek and jaw and neck.

“I’m sorry Miles- I just-“ Alex begins tentatively, until he is silenced by Miles who realises he doesn’t want anything but the feeling of Alex’s skin against his own.

He reaches for Alex’s hands, holding them firmly in his own as he moves them above Alex’s head, pinning the other man down underneath him as they resume their kissing. It’s Alex who moans first, clearly enjoying the weight of Miles on top of him and the firm grip Miles has on his hands. Miles bends even lower and begins to rock slightly, aware of Alex’s hardening boner and his own cock which responds in tandem. Something about the way Alex looks is enchanting, his long messy hair framing the most perfect face Miles has ever seen, his expression of pure bliss as Miles sucks the tender skin of his pecks. Miles seemingly forgets where they are and reaches to slip off his shorts when Alex takes his hand.

“Not here love,” Alex chuckles, flushed with arousal but far more aware of his surroundings, he interlocks their hands and pulls Miles’ hand to his lips, kissing it and letting go.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Miles sighs, his long fingers now released from Alex’s hold and free to stroke his hair and face. The man still underneath him blushes and squirms at the compliment, smiling softly as he turns his head away from Miles’ adoring gaze.

“And I’m sure you’re a wonderful lover, just not on the floor in the basement of our Muay Thai gym,” Alex giggles and Miles rolls to the floor besides him, his arousal having been replaced with tiredness and the lingering hope that Alex will finally tell him why he disappeared. But silence stretches out between them for what feels like an eternity until Alex sighs and opens his mouth.

“When I was a kid, I used to think that I’d be better by the time I was all grown up. I don’t know if my parents didn’t explain what a chronic condition was, or if I just ignored what they said. But I was determined to get better, so I could be an astronaut. I think some kid on the playground had told me that I couldn’t be an astronaut because I wasn’t healthy and it must have struck a nerve-“

“Al you don’t have to-“

“I think I do Miles.” Alex sighs and continues to stare at the ceiling but grabs Miles’ hand. “I was a sick kid and a sick teenager and an even sicker adult. I’m sorry for disappearing at your show Miles, I really am, but I just. I saw you up there, and you were so beautiful, so full of life and energy and I just couldn’t stand the thought of dragging you down. Weighing you down with all my shit, I didn’t seem- it doesn’t seem fair. So I sort of just left, I thought it’d be easier. And it sort of was, for a bit but then I had to write that review and I missed you and there were so many things I wanted to ask you about your music and I wanted to hear you ramble on about wrestling and I wanted to sit with you in the pub and have a pint. But I’d shut myself off from all of that.”

“You could have called, or texted or sent a letter or a fucking carrier pigeon. Why didn’t you answer my calls?” Miles turns to face Alex’s side profile and feels the way the other man squeezes their hands together tightly.

“Because I was worried I’d scare you away. I was in so much pain that night and I still am most days, it’s not fair to you.” Alex closes his eyes and Miles can see that despite the fact that his own breathing has settled, Alex is still panting. Before he says anything in response, Miles turns on his side, takes his free hand and places it on Alex’s chest. Feeling the way the other man’s heart slams erratically in his chest.

“You never asked if I thought it was fair. Don’t I get a say if you’re making all these assumptions about what I can handle?” Miles asks, afraid he’’s pushing to hard but desperate to pull Alex back into his life.

“I’m sorry,” Alex responds, his voice cracking a little around the edges in a way that makes Miles want to change the subject.

“How come you’re down here?”

“Well I’m not allowed to fight anymore but Josh still lets me come down here to exercise.”

Miles doesn’t know what to say for a moment, caught by his own disappointment that Alex can no longer fight, “I’m gonna miss sparring with you, you know.”

“And I’m gonna miss beating you,” Alex chuckles and turns to face Miles, their eyes meeting briefly. “I don’t think I would have made it without Muay Thai, it sort of saved me life.”

“Really?” Miles smiles.

“Yeah, it’s sort of a weird story but I passed out at a Strokes concert once and one of the security guys started talking to me about Muay Thai when I came to, I think he thought I just needed to improve my fitness. Which I guess I did but that wasn’t why I’d passed out.” Alex chuckles to himself and Miles is enraptured by the sound of it. “Then he recommended me his gym and I started going there. Me mum wasn’t happy but I loved it, it made me feel strong even though I got battered every week.”

Miles listens intently, his palm resting lightly on Alex’s stomach, long fingers tracing the little diamond of short hair that sits in the centre of Alex’s chest.

“What are you gonna do now?” Miles asks earnestly, his heart heavy with sadness as he watches Alex sigh deeply.

“I don’t know.”

Miles leans over and gently kisses Alex’s rosy cheek, “we can figure it out together.”

Miles can feel Alex’s breathe still, and then a bright smile splits the writers face and for a moment the world slows to a halt and the dim practice room where they lay fills with radiant light.

Chapter Text

—Alex—

Alex is unsure how exactly Miles convinced him to spend the day shopping, and he’s certainly beginning to regret his decision 3 hours into what was supposed to be an hour long trip.

“This is so glam, I feel like Marc Bolan right now,” Miles steps out of the changing room of the small London boutique the pair have been sequestered in for half an hour. Miles was easily seduced by the owner’s sweet talking ways and has a small pile of random items piled up next to the chair that Alex has been reclined in.

“You look like a peacock babe,” Alex chuckles, putting down the Dostoevsky novel he brings for occasions and emergencies like this to stare at the outrageous coat his boyfriend has draped over his shoulders.

“Well maybe peacock’s the look I’m going for love, maybe that’s what me albums gonna be about.”

“Peacocks?” Alex asks.

“Peacocks.” Miles replies with a smirk before disappearing back into the changing room stall.

Hidden in a corner in the back of the boutique, Alex is battling his fatigue. As much as he loves spending time with Miles, the smell of old vintage clothing and the warmth of the small shop is beginning to make him feel nauseous and claustrophobic. As he picks up his book to begin reading again, the words seem to blur on the page and he sighs with frustration as the obvious signs of his impending overstimulation loom large. He knows how happy his trip is making Miles but he hopes they leave soon.

“What about this Al?” Miles steps out of the small cubicle wearing a large light pink fluffy coat. He looks at himself in the mirror by Alex’s chair and spins around, clearly delighted by the garment. Alex can’t help but smile too, despite his discomfort.

“I like that the most out of everything you’ve shown me today.” Alex grins, raising his hand up towards Miles to feel the luxurious fluff of Miles’s coat, his fingers tingling as the soft fur easily gives way.

Miles looks down at him with a grin and blow him a kiss which Alex grabs eagerly from the air as his boyfriend disappears back behind the curtain of the changing room cubicle.

When Miles re-emerges from the changing room stall he’s dressed in his own clothes and swiftly picks up the pile he has accumulated next to Alex, “let me pay for this then we can head home.” Miles smiles down at him then whisks through to the front of the boutique to pay at the till. Alex feels relief flood his body and slowly gathers himself together in order to leave.

“I’ll get us an Uber,” Miles pulls his phone out and drops his bags as Alex spies a bench nearby to perch on.

He sighs and leans back aware of the pain radiating from his spine. Miles looks over with remorse and shuffles towards Alex with his bags so he can sit down too.

“Sorry I took so long, got a bit carried away with everything,” Miles apologises sheepishly and Alex immediately feels guilt flood through his body. Logically he knows it isn’t selfish to want rest but he often worries he’s preventing Miles from living his own life. Their dynamic has had to change in the month since Miles moved in with Alex and sometimes he wonders if that too was selfish of him, to desperately cling onto Miles and weigh him down. He tries to quite literally shake the thought out of his head and breathes out when he feels Miles long fingers start to ruffle his hair. Before Alex can even think to reply the Uber Miles ordered arrives and they gather their things together.

At home, the pair call for their dog Maxie who jumps up from his dog bed, barking and wagging his tail as he runs towards them in the hallway.

“Heya, d’you miss us Maxie,” Miles grins and crouches down to pick the white puppy up. Alex nods and smiles at their dog sitter who appears from the living room and begins to make her exit.

“Thanks Grace, did you manage to feed him alright?” Alex asks as he fishes for his wallet and hands her a few notes.

“Yeah he’s been really good today, I think the medicine’s helped a lot.” She waves goodbye to Miles and Maxie on the floor before promising to see them again in a few days and leaving through the front door. Both men sigh with relief as they coo over Maxie, glad that the stomach bug he’d been struggling with has cleared up with help from the Vet.

“Right I need to go sort this stuff out,” Miles sighs as he stands and picks up his bags full of clothes. Alex nods in approval and heads towards the couch, stripping off his shoes and his coat before lowering himself down onto the plush red velvet of his settee. Maxie follows behind dutifully, climbing up to sprawl on top of Alex who’s relieved to finally be able to lay down. In the quiet comfort of his living room, with his fingers buried in the soft white fur of the dog laying on his stomach and just the right amount of pressure weighing him down, Alex finally drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

—Miles—

When Miles makes his way downstairs, aware of his growing hunger and eager to give Alex the present he bought during their little shopping trip, he hears Alex’s soft snores. He pokes his head around the corner to find his boyfriend sprawled out on the couch with their dog. It’s an image so peaceful he can’t help but coo and whip out his phone to take a sneaky photo, sure that Alex will pretend to hate it but secretly feel pleased that Miles could capture the heartwarming moment. He places the bag with Alex’s present on their coffee table and decides to quietly make dinner instead, aware that Alex will be hungry too once he eventually wakes up from his afternoon nap. As Miles hums along to songs on the radio in the kitchen he starts to feel a little worried about how tired Alex must be. The other man naps most afternoons, but Miles can’t stop thinking about how far he may have pushed Alex in the morning and hopes that his cooking will make up for it.

By the time he’s finished, serving up the pasta in bowls and placing them on the round little table in their kitchen, Miles is sure it’s ok to wake Alex up from his nap. Maxie clearly is also eager to eat and rushes over to his dog bowl leaving Miles relieved that he doesn’t have to shout for the puppy or pry him away from Alex. When he feels their dog is taken care of Miles saunters over to the living room, his socked feet making little noise against the hard wood floor and gently taps Alex on the shoulder.

“Al love, I made us some dinner.” Miles waits patiently for Alex’s eyes to flicker open and hopes the nap his boyfriend took leaves him feeling strong enough to sit and eat. Bleary eyed Alex sits up slowly and rubs his face, letting Miles strong arms steady him as he fully regains consciousness.

Miles doesn’t expect Alex to say much, he usually doesn’t for at least an hour after he wakes up from his naps, so is surprised when the writers eyes land on the bag placed on the coffee table and he asks, “what’s that?”

“Oh,” Miles grabs the bag and hands it to him grinning eagerly as he tries to contain the excitement that rushes through him. Alex peers into the brown paper bag and slowly pulls out the item.

“Miles, you didn’t have to get me anything I-” Alex starts but is cut off by Miles who can’t contain his jittery enthusiasm any longer.

“I just had to get them Al, they’re the exact pair we talked about and I just happened to spot them when we’re were out!” Miles is practically bouncing in place on the couch as Alex runs his hands over the black and red Muay Thai shorts, fingers trembling slightly against the silk fabric. Miles’ grin falters a lot when he turns to look at Alex and sees the other man sniff and blink back tears. “Al?”

“Sorry, sorry. I love ‘em. It’s just I don’t- I won’t have anywhere to wear ‘em.” Alex places the shorts on his lap and vigorously rubs his face as if trying to scrub away the shame that pierces through to the surface and shatters his composed facade.

Miles panics slightly at Alex’s reaction unsure of what to say as Alex begins to slowly rock back and forth where he sits. “You should come with me next week. Only if you want, but I think everyone misses you and you can wear them there.” Miles can feel his initial excitement metastasing into something resembling real anxiety and he waits with baited breath for Alex to respond, unsure how his boyfriend feels about returning to their Mauy Thai gym.

Alex simply nods and Miles lets out a sigh of relief, surprising himself with how much tension he had built up in such a short time.

“Did you say something ‘bout dinner?” Alex croaks, and Miles jumps up having forgotten about the bowls of pasta that have been rapidly cooling in the kitchen. He curses himself for being so forgetful and then makes the split second decision to warm up their food in the microwave and eat in front of the TV instead. Whilst the food warms up, Miles takes a moment to peak around the corner to check up on Alex and watches as the other man rhythmically rubs the palms of his hands up and down the fabric of his new shorts, clearly deep in thought as he stares down at his lap. Miles is fairly familiar with this trance like state that Alex sometimes falls into, at first he was a little concerned by how far away the writer would seem to drift but now he understands that Alex needs this time to process and come to terms with things.

“Here you go love, careful it’s hot,” Miles hands Alex his pasta on a tray and settles in next to him on the couch.

“Thanks for taking me out earlier today, it’s been a while,” Alex whispers, his large brown eyes glued to the TV.

Miles is a little surprised by this and turns to look at Alex, “I was worried it was too much, I get a bit carried away you know.” He tries to suppress the age old shame that rises up within him when he indulges in the things he loves.

“It’s alright. I mean we always do what I wanna do so I figured it’d be nice to switch gears.” Alex replies with enough nonchalance to begin to ease Miles’ anxiety, but the musician still feels like he has to justify himself.

“I know the shopping’s a bit annoying and probably a bit too girly or whatever but I’ve always loved fashion and clothes and trying on new things. I couldn’t really do much of it until I moved down here and sometimes I go a bit mad with it. So you can stop me if you ever need to.” Miles rambles, insecurity bubbling up within him as he scratches at his buzzcut, unsure of how to release the nervous energy that builds in situations like this.

Alex places a hand on Miles’ knee and looks directly at him, “I’ll admit I’m not as enthusiastic as you are and by the end of it I did feel worn out, but I’m willing to endure a little discomfort now and again if it means I get to see that big grin of yours. I love you.”

Miles nods and whispers back his own I love you, his anxiety replaced by reassurance. In the dim light of their living room a small insecure part of himself is healed by those simple words which seem to stitch together some of the loose threads that he’s never been able to fix himself.

The rest of dinner is a quiet but cosy affair, they watch a little TV as they eat and Miles is glad to see Alex almost finish his serving, aware of how hard the other man has been battling nausea recently. Once they’re done both men curl up together under a thick blanket and call for Maxie to join them on the couch as they watch an old science fiction film. Under the blanket he feels Alex tightly grip his hands, squeezing and releasing each of Miles’ long fingers like stress balls, he hopes that nothing will shatter the perfect harmony of their life together.