The Miles Between You and Me // Completed

The Miles Between You and Me

Miles Jeremiah, the boy who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. From a young age I had watched him manipulate and orchestrate his parents and siblings to give him what he wanted and to do whatever he demanded. Maybe it was his cheeky grin, or the dimples that he sported on his cheeks. Or maybe it was his sweet and chirpy voice that only turned deep and smooth as he got older. Either way, Miles had a way with people, including me. I'd spent a long time trying to work out if it was a good or bad thing. Regardless I didn't think I'd like the answer, so I avoided it.

Everyone had always said we were inseparable. They'd walk past us in the playground and say "Cody and Miles, always together" or "Miles never leaves her side." It was just how it was. Except it was me that wouldn't leave him, I couldn't. Something about the way he made me feel, even from a young age, made it impossible to stay away. It was as if there was some physical force pulling me towards him, and if I ever went too far from him, it brought me pain. He had a hold on me, and it felt like I'd never be able to break it.

Miles had many friends over the years. Our first day of high school, we went from a table of two to a table of eight, that soon grew to a table so large I couldn't count the people around us. I had felt like I was drowning; people weren't my thing as much as they were Miles'. I preferred the comfort of Miles, and Miles only. Everyone wanted to be his best friend. I'd watch from a distance as guys would shake his hand, pat his back, and ask him if they would see him at the game on Friday night. As for the girls, well, there wasn't a lack of them.

Despite all the attention he gained elsewhere, he still only sought out mine. He'd reach for my hand as we walked towards the school gym for yet another basketball game. His eyes would find mine across the classroom as the teacher lectured us on language techniques. My phone would light up with a text from him every night, at exactly seven thirty four, detailing his day. Miles was no ditcher; he left it up to me to leave. It would be my decision. Maybe he didn't want the blame or the guilt of seeing me alone every lunch, with nothing but a tray of food to keep me company. He'd know I wouldn't eat it, only let it sit there until it got cold, and then say I wasn't hungry anyway. I knew he wouldn't be able to bare that thought; I'd always thought that he had enough going for him, leading me to believe that I could never burden him.

It didn't matter that Miles was juggling school, sports and a part time job, he always made time for me. Together we'd sit in the dark, watching silent movies on the small television in his small room. The noise of his family in the house around us balanced out the obsession we had with the tranquility of the black and white visions dancing across the pixelated screen. There was something so soothing about being in the same room as him. Every worry or negative thought I'd been experiencing would fade away as we sat in silence. Sometimes we'd sit pressed against each other. Other times, we'd sit so far apart it was like we weren't even on the same planet. That was Miles though, he was always destined for another world.

Once he told me he loved me. He didn't mean it romantically, but he had meant it nonetheless. He said it felt nice to love someone and to know that they'd always be there for him; he wanted a love that was unbreakable and forever. Miles viewed love as something that was given, not felt. Maybe he believed that if he were genuinely loved there would be no hardship and that everything would be perfect. I'd never known Miles to be weak, but in that moment I saw how afraid he was to love and allow space for not only joy and happiness but pain and heartbreak. All he had known of was hurt and grief from his family, people that were supposed to show him unconditional love; maybe that's what made me tell him that I also loved him. I meant it romantically, but he didn't know that. I thought I understood him. I thought I knew what was best for him, and maintaining a platonic love seemed to be the logical way to go because I knew the love I had for him would never be enough. The way I felt for him would only place further burden on him and that was the last thing he needed. Miles had already made it clear that he was suffocating; the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders as he fought every day to remain sane within a household that treated him as if he were nothing but a mere thing that wasted oxygen. Even at a naïve point in my life, I had noticed something was off about the relationship that Miles had with his entire family; I was never able to pin its origin. I never in a million years would have guessed that the problem was because of Miles, not because of them.