Mystery of Love

What Now?

Alex woke up with a loud grunt, fiddling with his phone in an attempt to stop the alarm. He barely opened his eyes, the low brightness of the screen making him squint. Having successfully turned off the alarm, he threw his phone to the side and buried his head in between his pillows. He inhaled deeply, a familiar scent filling up his nostrils, infiltrating his whole body as he breathed in the aroma. It was so undeniably him, there was nothing like it and never will be. Memories of the day before bubbled up inside of his still sleepy mind.

Many weeks, months, short and awkward phone calls and too many glasses of wine after, in a sudden moment of bravery Alex decided to call. He already regretted it the moment he pressed the phone to his ear. What is he going to say - 'Hello, I got drunk off of wine like a single woman in her 40s, I've been missing you like a fool and thought it would be the perfect time to make a call. How's your mum and dad?' If he had the energy, he would've laughed at himself. Instead, he sighed deeply and before another idea could've come to his head –

"Al?" And there he was. The simple sound of his nickname being said shook Alex to the core and he felt goosebumps forming on his arms. His mouth dried out as if he was at the dentist with his mouth agape for too long; all of a sudden he forgot how to breathe properly and – Miles' voice interrupted his train of thought again –

"Are you okay? You don't normally call this late." Concern was evident in the Scouser's voice, a hint of sleepiness adding to his thick accent. Alex searched frantically around the living room, turning his head, his eyes roaming around on the walls in a hurry, looking for a clock. 'How late could it be?' he thought to himself. It was barely 11 when he started drinking.

"Alex, please." The younger man's voice was toned with worry now.

"I'm-" Alex managed to choke out. He still couldn't process the fact that they were talking; well, more like he was being talked to.

"I'm okay. Everything's fine..." 'What a poor attempt of a reply' Alex talked to himself in his head again. There was silence on the other line – not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

"Miles." He finally said the word, the name of his best friend, his mate for life, his 'nothing-could-drive-us-apart' brother – although, that might not be the best way to regard the Scouser by now. "Miles. Where are you?" Alex asked, licking his lips without even noticing it, staring at the ground with his elbows propped up on his thighs, his back forming an uncomfortable bend.

"I'm home." Miles simply stated. 'Fuck.' Alex thought – he absolutely hated what they became – this short answer not satisfying him enough. He wanted the old Miles - the one who would tell him that he's home, make a joke right after, then cackle in the way that made Alex smile wide in an immediate.

"Can you come here? Can I come to you?" Not even Alex knew where got this confidence from. He didn't know what they would do if they would indeed meet up; what would they say; God knows how terribly awkward it would be. Only a few seconds have passed and these thoughts already ran through the Sheffield singer's mind, his brain now overthinking on its own.

"I... Yes. Yeah, I'll – I could come to your house, uhm... Right now?" The well-known singer was surprised. He would've thought that there is a bigger chance of the world ending right there and then, than Miles instantly agreeing to his proposal. After all, he lost count of the weeks when they haven't seen or talked to each other.

"Yeah... Yeah, now is perfect. Is it too late?" He had to shamedly admit that he had no idea what hour it was.

"It's almost half past three." Miles informed the drunk lad, a very faint hint of amusement in his voice, that Alex recognized in a heartbeat – and now his own started to beat a tad slower, having calmed down. Maybe Miles didn't absolutely hate his guts, like he convinced himself.

"Fuck... I didn't know. I woke you up?" He dragged the end of his sentence into a question. He was too drunk to realise that he wanted to ask something when he started his sentence.

"I don't mind." Al closed his eyes at these words. They came off as oddly comforting.

"Be there in a few?" Miles mimicked his actions.

"Yes. I'll be... waiting. The door's open."

"Okay. Alright, I'm coming." The small sound of the bed creaking could be heard on Miles' end, signaling that he was getting up and ready to go to Alex's – and the call was over.