Fragments of Us

Chapter Twenty-Four: Tension

The small pub had a warm and welcoming charm. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the wooden tables and vintage décor. Soft acoustic music played in the background, blending perfectly with the murmur of light conversation from the handful of patrons scattered around. It was a far cry from the noisy, crowded bars that Milo usually avoided, and he was grateful Kiel had chosen this spot.

Kiel sat across from him, nursing a beer and fidgeting slightly with the edge of his glass. He was clearly nervous, his smile a little too tight, his laugh a second too late. Milo noticed and decided to make it easier for him.

   “So, the first thing I did when I moved out of Portland was sleep for like... eleven hours straight,” Milo said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Kiel chuckled, relaxing a little. “Wow, must’ve been nice. I can barely hit six these days.”

   “Oh, it was,” Milo replied, swirling his drink—a simple gin and tonic. “But I think it’s because my body needed to recover from the trauma of packing up my life.” He paused for dramatic effect, adding with a mock-serious tone, “And crying every morning when I woke up probably added to the exhaustion.”

Kiel blinked, caught off guard by the humor in Milo’s delivery. Then he burst out laughing, the tension melting away. “You’ve always been funny, you know that? Like, unexpectedly funny.”

   “Unexpectedly?” Milo raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

   “You know what I mean,” Kiel said, grinning now. “Back in college, you always had this quiet, mysterious vibe. But then you’d drop some sarcastic comment, and it would catch everyone off guard.”

Milo smiled, appreciating the compliment but quickly steering the conversation elsewhere. “Speaking of college... do you remember that coffee shop near campus? The one with the world’s worst muffins but the best lattes?”

   “Yeah, I do,” Kiel said, laughing. “I think we all kept going there just because it was close, not because it was good.”

There was a beat of silence, comfortable now, before Kiel spoke again, his tone more serious but still light. “You know, I used to hate Atlas back then.”

Milo’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “Hate him? Why?”

Kiel’s lips twitched into a sheepish grin. “Because he always made it clear you were off-limits. Like, painfully clear. Anytime I was around, he’d suddenly be all over you—holding your hand, kissing your cheek, leaning on you.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “It was like he had this radar that went off whenever I was nearby.”

Milo tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “You noticed all that, huh?”

   “Noticed?” Kiel let out a small laugh. “It was impossible not to. I mean, I get it now. He was just making sure everyone knew you were his.”

Milo hummed, swirling his drink again. “He was protective. I didn’t realize it was so... obvious to everyone else.”

   “It was,” Kiel said, leaning forward slightly. “And honestly? It worked. I wasn’t going to try anything. Not when he was so—” Kiel gestured vaguely, searching for the right word. “—territorial.”

Milo snorted, sipping his drink. “He was... a lot sometimes.”

They both laughed, the sound easing the brief tension that had crept in. For a moment, Milo let himself relax, the weight of the past feeling a little lighter in the warm glow of the pub.

Kiel leaned back, his eyes meeting Milo’s. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I’m glad I have a chance to get to know you now. Without all of that... noise.”