yours.

[42] Jasper

I wake to find a bucket of cleaning supplies outside my bedroom door. Each restroom, a note stuck to it reads, heartless.

My father's doing, no doubt. So, I waste no time in taking my bucket downstairs with me to the ground floor restroom, where I scrub the toilet, basin, and mirror until they each shine, spotless. I double-, then triple-check my work, ensuring nothing remains to give my father something to complain about.

My mother wanders into the restroom at some point during my third inspection, and she looks over my work before coming down to sit on the floor beside me.

"I heard you crying yesterday," she says quietly. "Was it something your father said?"

I tense, staring at the bristles of my toilet bowl cleaner. "No," I lie. "Just... teenage hormones, and such."

My mother seems unconvinced. "You know... you know you can talk to me, right?"

But I can't, not really. I can never have her attention long enough for me to share my feelings with her and feel truly heard. "Okay, Mum."

She reaches out to brush a hand against the sleeve of my sweatshirt, and I shift as her hand sinks closer to my forearm. "I love you, Max. I do."

Hearing my brother's name instead of my own drives a blade of grief through my gut, and I push to my feet, scared of being overwhelmed by my emotions again. "I know, Mum. But I... I really should get going. Three more toilets to clean." I take my supplies and hurry back upstairs, cleaning my own restroom with no issue. But in my parents', I take extra care, sure my father will scrutinize this one most of all.

I pull on the gloves from the bucket and get to work scrubbing the bath, scrunching my nose as the smell of bleach fills the room. Eventually, I go on autopilot, scrubbing and scrubbing until my hand goes numb, and my brain wanders to prod at thoughts of Miles and Max, and if the two would have gotten on well,  and how that doesn't matter now that both are gone.

Gone, gone, gone, the word drones on in my mind. Everyone's gone, everyone leaves, everyone dies...

I clench my jaw as I realize Miles isn't even really gone -- he still lives next door, and I'll probably see him all the time. And it'll be torture, seeing him and knowing what I lost, what I could never have. And meanwhile, he'll set off with his girlfriend, who's probably super hot, doing things and spending time with people who mean more to him than I ever will--

"You look good in a glove." I turn in disbelief and see Miles leaning against the open doorframe of the restroom. He smirks at me, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"What... what are you doing here?"

He pushes off of the doorframe and comes to join me in the vast room. I stand hastily, pulling off my gloves and tossing them aside. "I came to see you."

My heart pounds as I let myself imagine the possibilities behind his words. Cautiously, I say, "And why did you do that?"

"Because I wanted to. And now neither of us has to feel guilty about it." I hold my breath-- "I did it. I did what you asked."

"You broke up with Krystina?"

"I broke up with Krystina."

I release a rush of air, groaning, "Miles." When he laughs, I add, "You weren't meant to end things! I... I told you I didn't want to be the cause of relationship issues."

"And you're not. I should have broken up with her a long time ago, on my own. And besides, I really would rather be with you than her any day. It was my decision."

I find I can only stare at him as I accept the truth in his words. He really does care about me. He gave up his relationship... for me. 

For me.

"Do you want proof?"

His question surprises me, and I nod.

He takes his phone from his pocket and slips it into my hands. I glance down at it. It's unlocked and opened to a thread of texts between him and Krystina -- whose contact name no longer contains a heart.

Wait so Miles, the first message reads.

You were just like kidding right [11:23 AM]

Like we're still a thing [11:25 AM]

and this is all just a joke [11:26 AM]

miles plesae
plese respond
miles pls i cant do this rn pls [11:27 AM]

Slowly, my gaze tracks back up to Miles, who watches me, hopeful. "You're going to respond, right?" I ask. "You know you can't just leave her hanging."

Carefully, he takes his phone back from me. "I will. Eventually."

"And why can't you now?"

He grins, pocketing his phone. My heart melts at the sight. Not gone, I think, relieved. Never gone. "I'm busy."

I edge my way closer to him. "Busy doing what?"

"Kissing you." He places a hand on the small of my back. He moves to meet my lips with his, then pauses, murmuring, "Can I kiss you?"

I want to say yes, so badly, but I don't. Placing my hands against his chest, I tell him, "We can't. My mum is home."

"No, she's not."

"Miles--"

"How do you think I got in here?" he says easily, resting his forehead against mine. I stare into his green eyes. "Your mom let me in, and then she left. Didn't say where she was going, though. She seemed kind of out of it."

She always does. "Okay, then." My gaze refocuses on his mouth. "If it's just us..."

He takes the hint and kisses me -- almost violently, pressing the back of my legs against the side of the bath. I yelp, scared of falling in, and he pulls me close to him. I respond, forcing my body against his, and then we're sinking, dropping to the floor below us in a tangle of arms and legs and lips, and never once do we break our kiss.

He came back. The words come to me through my haze of elation. He came back to me.