THREE MILES

It"s late, and Miles has never wished he lived closer to downtown than he does in this moment.

Sure, he"s not that far away, but he"s exhausted, and the temperatures haven"t started rising yet. He played two shows tonight, and, yeah, it was incredible, but he"s not used to back-to-back performances. It took more out of him than he expected. He shifts his guitar on his back, groaning at the ache between his shoulders. That"s going to suck in the morning. He"s probably not going to get good sleep tonight, if he gets any.

Tonight is his last show before he starts seriously preparing for his upcoming acting role, which is not a list of events Miles ever thought would apply to him.

He feels like he"s looking in at a life that"s not actually his own.

It"s cool, sure, and if it ever actually airs, it"ll probably do wonders for his music career. But he"s anxious as all hell. Determined, too, because he wants to get this done and do it right, but mostly anxious. Kieran has barely talked to him since the meeting with Hendricks and Burke, leaving his texts read and unanswered, and he"s torn between being grateful and pissed. It"s definitely nice to not have to try to keep his feelings to himself around the guy, but they are going to be in a highly risky scenario together. Again.

Miles thought he might at least reach out, wish him good luck or something. He shouldn"t have gotten his hopes up.

It"s bad enough that Miles has never acted a day in his life—unless you count the time he played an angel in a preschool play, which he does not—but having to be in close proximity with Kieran again without a chance to get his head on straight isn"t going to go well. He really needs to get himself in check.

Even if he somehow manages to square his own feelings away, being on a beautiful tropical island with the most gorgeous man he"s ever met just doesn"t instill a lot of confidence in him for his own resolve.

Miles is broken out of his thoughts by the cheerful chime of his phone, and he pulls it from his pocket, half grateful for the distraction. He squints at the number—it"s not one he has saved, but something about it seems familiar.

Shrugging, he answers it, lifting his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god you picked up! Smiles, honey, how are you?"

Miles actually stops walking for a second when he hears that voice, that stupid nickname he always hated, looking around for a fucking camera or something. He has to be getting pranked. There"s no way this is actually happening.

There"s no fucking way that Frank of all people is calling him right now.

But he keeps talking, and Miles resigns himself to listening to Frank babble for a few minutes before he can get a word in. Of course, he could just hang up, but Frank would probably just keep calling all night, and Miles really wants to go to bed when he gets home. He starts walking again, his eyes drooping as he listens to Frank babble.

"I saw you on TV and I was so worried!" Frank coos. "You were with that famous actor and they said someone tried to kill you both and I was just so scared, Smiles. I miss you so much, you should come back home. They"re not keeping you for anything, right? Just let me take care of you, baby."

Miles does his best not to laugh at that, managing to hide his chuckle in a cough. Frank is just as transparent as he always was, and Miles can immediately pick out exactly what information Frank is searching for. He doesn"t even ask Miles how he"s doing.

It doesn"t hurt as much as Miles thought it would.

"You were with that famous actor" translates to "tell me everything about Kieran Callahan—you can get me an autograph, right?" "They"re not keeping you for anything" translates to "give me all the juicy gossip so I can tell my friends I have an insider scoop."

Miles just sighs, but he"s kind of proud of himself for being able to see through it all immediately. A couple of years ago, Miles would have fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. A couple of years ago, he would have gone running to Frank before Frank could come running to him.

"I"m fine, Frank," he says, purposefully keeping his voice bland. "It wasn"t that big of a deal. Anyway, I"m busy, and—just, look, we don"t have any reason to talk anymore. Leave me be, alright?"

He hangs up without waiting for Frank to respond, turning his ringer off as he slides his phone back into his pocket. It starts vibrating immediately, but he can ignore that much more easily than his ringtone.

There"s no way Frank will leave it alone for long, but it"s a good start. Miles is so exhausted, even just the minute or two he was on the phone with Frank drained him completely, but he feels a little lighter.

Who knows, maybe he"ll actually get some sleep.

As he rounds the corner to his little apartment building, he sees someone sitting on his doorstep and slows his steps, nerves setting in. He thinks it"s a man, but the shadow of his doorway is obscuring their face, and they"re hunched down, arms wrapped around their shoulders.

His heart races, the rush of blood pounding in his ears, and he debates turning and running, calling Chloe maybe.

Just as he takes a slow step backward, the person shifts, rubbing their hands over their arms, and recognition slams into Miles.

This is a joke, right? Some cosmic fucking joke, where all of his stupid ex-boyfriends come running back to him all at once to beg for his hand, his forgiveness. It"s now that he should be meeting his knight in shining armor, right? He kind of wants to look around for cameras again.

This really does feel like someone else"s life.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Miles scoffs, walking toward his front door, annoyed.

Ethan looks up at the sound of his voice, his face splitting into a wide smile, and Miles almost stops in his tracks again. Ethan looks back to his old self, like he did when Miles first met him. Gone are the clothes he was wearing around Dr. Grace, along with the awful bleached auburn hair he"d been trying to pull off.

He"s sitting on Miles" doorstep, wearing an old tee and tattered jeans, his hair back to its natural dirty blond. His nose is bright red from the cold. He springs up as Miles comes closer, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them back up.

"Miles!" he calls, sounding genuinely happy to see him. "What were you doing out so late?"

"I was playing a few shows at the bar," Miles answers instinctively. He shakes his head and furrows his brow as he stops in front of Ethan on his doorstep. "Why the hell is it any of your business? What are you even doing here?"

Ethan looks kind of shocked at Miles" attitude, and, to be fair, Miles kind of is, too. But, sue him, right? He"s tired, it"s cold, he"s stressed, and he doesn"t really have the energy to deal with his ex waiting for him on his front stoop. He"s already dealt with one ex tonight, which he thinks is actually more than he should have to deal with. Miles is pretty sure he"s quite well earned being in a shitty mood.

Ethan brushes it off quickly, though, and he blushes, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of shame. He laughs a bit nervously, glancing up to meet Miles" eyes under his lashes and grinning abashedly. Miles just raises an impatient brow, tapping his foot on the cracked sidewalk.

"Look, I know it"s a lot, ok?" Ethan starts.

Miles bites back a groan, clenching his hands into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. He"s mostly annoyed because he already knows he"s going to say yes to whatever Ethan asks, but he"s also annoyed because he knows that Ethan knows that, too. That"s why he came to Miles in the first place.

"I just got back from Thailand, and I don"t have anywhere to stay or a job yet. Can I just stay for a little, just to get back on my feet?"

Miles and Kieran had gone back to their daily lives after the disaster of Ethan"s engagement party, while Ethan had gone to Thailand to deal with everything.

Everything, of course, meaning almost watching several of his friends get killed, almost being killed himself, almost marrying a psychotic serial killer with a creepy little murder basement, and killing his fiancé. Well, ex-fiancé, now. Miles honestly didn"t blame him for wanting to fuck off to a monastery after that. It"s probably actually a pretty reasonable response, all things considered.

He rolls his eyes, confirming to himself that he is, in fact, a pushover, and walks past Ethan, unlocking the door. Ethan opens his mouth to say something, but Miles just grabs the duffel bag Ethan was leaning against on his doorstep and makes his way inside.

He"s too tired to drag this out right now, and if he really regrets it in the morning, he can just call Chloe and ask her to kick the idiot out. She"s way scarier than he is.

"You can take the couch," Miles tells him as soon as he hears the quiet click of the front door locking and Ethan"s footsteps shuffling down the hall.

It hurts a bit, how familiar it all is. Ethan"s hair and his clothes and the sound of him walking down the hallway. Miles frowns when he realizes it"s the familiarity he misses, not Ethan.

He misses Ethan as a friend, but not as a partner.

That hurts a little bit, too, even if it feels good to realize. Fuck, he must be exhausted to be thinking about this at all.

"Just, look, Ethan," Miles says, turning and sighing, pinning Ethan in place with a half-hearted glare. "Don"t do anything stupid, ok? We"re just friends now, and I want it to stay that way. You can stay on the couch for a few weeks or whatever, but if you try to come onto me, I"m kicking your ass out onto the street, got it?"

Ethan lets his smile drop a bit, nodding earnestly. Miles hopes to hell he"s being honest. He really doesn"t have it in him to deal with anything else right now.

"I swear, Miles," he says. "I"m a different man. I don"t want anything to do with a relationship for a long fucking time. I promise I won"t do anything to make you uncomfortable, ok? And I"ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet."

Miles looks at him for a moment longer, trying to gauge his sincerity. He"s far too tired to even keep his eyes open, much less figure out if Ethan is bullshitting him, so he just nods, sighing deeply.

"Sure, Ethan."

He sounds sad when he says it, even to his own ears, and Miles realizes that a lot of the stress weighing on his shoulders is just loneliness. Chloe has been so busy with planning everything for her wedding, and Miles doesn"t have many other friends. Plus, he hardly ever gets to see the friends he does have because of his schedule at the club, so he"s just…alone a lot of the time. If Ethan will actually not be a jerk for once, maybe that"ll help Miles" mounting stress.

"I"m going to bed. Set up in here however you want."

He turns and stumbles toward his bedroom.

"Thank you, Miles," Ethan calls.

Miles just raises a hand in a lazy wave over his shoulder and nudges his bedroom door shut behind him. He stands there for a moment, exhaustion truly crashing over him, and he debates just laying down on his stomach, not even bothering to take his guitar off. The thought is tempting, but reason wins out, and he manages to at least slide his guitar case over his head and place it gently against the wall. He kicks his shoes off and trudges toward his bed, shedding his jacket along the way. He pulls his belt free from its loops, dropping it to the floor, but doesn"t manage to get his jeans unbuttoned before he collapses onto his bed.

He"d probably try to force himself to at least strip fully, if not actually shower and get into pajamas, on any other night, but he"s just too drained to try to deal with it all right now. He"s tired, and he doesn"t want to fight with himself just to get into some pajamas. He hasn"t been sleeping for shit anyway, and the thought of just letting himself pass out is far too good to ignore.

What does it matter if he sleeps like shit in jeans instead of sweatpants?

Another deep sigh falls from his lips, and Miles does his best to ignore the way the last thought that flits through his mind before he slips into blissful sleep is of Kieran.