“Trust me,” Astrid said over her shoulder, just before Miles slipped through the double doors leading to the back. “Falcons.”
Miles snorted and gave her a thumbs-up, then left her to deal with the customer. He tried not to think about how, in a few short months, he would be just as round.
Forty-five minutes and a visit to the grocery store later, he found himself sitting behind the wheel of his car in the parking lot, typing out a message as quickly as he could, and hitting send before he was able to overthink it. He tossed his phone so hard into the passenger seat that it bounced off and fell onto the floor, but he didn’t bother to grab it. He’d pick it up and deal with the consequences later, but for now he at least had the drive home to pretend everything was normal and fine.
Maybe Jun wouldn’t even reply.
Hehadsaid he was busy and would text when he was able. That could mean days, right? Weeks. Maybe years. There was no way he would take time out of his busy schedule to reply to someone like Miles.
But when Miles made it home from the grocery store, there was a new text from Jun waiting. He put away his groceries in record time, flung himself down onto his bed, and read.
Miles:Hey. It’s kilometers. Sorry it’s been a few days. Remember how I’m a chronic overthinker and worrier? Yeah, let’s just say there were quite a few written and deleted texts before I finally sent this one. It’s not all anxiety, tho. I also just haven’t really been feeling well, and am still not doing super hot, so if I don’t reply right away it’s either bc I am afraid of you or bc I’m throwing up. Or ig it could be that a falcon swooped down and snatched my phone out of my hand thinking it was a small rodent. Definitely one of those three things. Ok, shutting up and hitting send, omfg.
Jun:Hey, are you okay? Like have you been to a doctor? Sounds like whatever you’ve got going on is serious. I’m just an internet stranger but what you wrote is worrying and I hope you’re doing all right
Are you okay?
God, Miles ghosted him for days—or months, if you wanted to get technical about it—and Jun’s first concern was making sure he was okay.
This man deserved so much better than him.
At least the second text was a lot easier to send than the first. He’d have to purposefully fuck up a strawberry cupcake next time he was at work and then give it to Astrid in thanks. Those were her favorites.
Miles:Ah. Yeah. I’m fine. Or, at least I mean I know what’s causing it. Fine is… maybe not the adjective I would use, but I’m not dying at least.
He read over his message and, realizing he sounded like he was being held hostage and trying to speak in code, he sent off a third text. He was nailing this.
Miles:Just realized how not reassuring that probably sounded lol. I’m fine. Actually fine. I appreciate your concern and didn’t mean to cause you to worry. You’re very sweet.
Too mortified to continue texting, Miles hid his phone beneath his pillows and went to grab one of his new Pop-Tarts out of the pantry. Normal human interaction? He was acing it. Nothin’ to it at all.
It was late when his phone buzzed with Jun’s next incoming text, but Miles was wide awake, sleep refusing to claim him, so he snatched up his phone and read it immediately.
Jun:If you say so. In the meantime, if you need me to fuck up some falcons for you, I’m there.
Jun:But yeah, what I wanted to say on twitch was:
Jun:I understand being anxious about the situation, but if the guy liked you enough to leave you his number, it was probably because he likes You. All of you. Not just the parts that bring him pleasure. The whole package. The guy I was with was shy, too, and fuck, that’s what I loved about him. How cute he was. How much the way he acted made me want to keep him safe. Like don’t get me wrong, the sex was fantastic, but that’s not what made me want to stay. He was so complex, like this adorable mess of contradictions, and I wanted so badly to get to know him better and figure it all out. I feel like I could’ve spent forever doing that. Just. Falling for him more the more I uncovered. Getting so wrapped up in the jumble of threads that make up the fabric of who he is that there’s no hope of ever getting untangled.
Jun:It’s not about interesting jobs, or hobbies, or the money in his bank account. I want him because of who he is, not what he’s done or accomplished, and I’d bet my brain parasite charity stream earnings that your guy feels the same about you.
Jun:So if that’s all that’s holding you back, let’s work on it together. I might not be getting my fairy-tale ending, but yours is still possible. Let me help you get there
Despite himself, Miles laughed humorlessly.
Goddammit, this guy was unreal. Every word he said was the exact right one, just like how every touch he’d placed on his body that night had been unbelievably perfect. There was something in the way he spoke to Miles that made him feel like maybe they really could have a shot at something real, if he could just muster up the courage to admit his true identity.
Except, just as he thought that, the image of the man at the bakery flooded his mind. The way he ran his hand over his bump while he smiled easily at him and Astrid, his little toddler babbling in the stroller.
Miles knew he was being presumptuous, but that didn’t stop him from being jealous of the life he had made up for that man. The one where he had someone he loved to come home to. The one where he slept in a bed he and his lover had purposefully made their children in together. That man hadn’t created a family by accident. When he had seen the plus sign on the test, he had been euphoric instead of terrified. He had been able to tell his lover without being afraid of being met with a bad reaction, because it was something they had done deliberately.
Jun was taken with him, sure, but he hadn’t asked for this.
He had wanted to keep the condom on—had even gone as far as to check to make sure Miles was on birth control, even though he had intended to keep it wrapped. And yeah, okay, they’d had chemistry. Unbelievable amounts of chemistry. Enough so that they were both still thinking of the other over two months later, but that didn’t mean jackshit in the scheme of things.
Chemistry alone did not a family make.
Orgasms, no matter how mind-blowing, were not the same as love.
