Feels Like We Only Go Backwards
They argued over something stupid.
Alex could not remember the details. Seemingly something to do with him being late again and Miles was not having a very good day himself. They ended up glaring at each in silence in the tour bus on the way to sound check. Miles was still upset with him even right before they went on stage. It was a bizarre moment: they'd had their ups and downs, but the time of touring together was always too precious for any of them to stay pissed for very long.
Miles was usually the one who broke the ice first, with a joke, a funny face or, if there was nobody else around, a kiss. But this time he was very determined to stay angry at Alex. He even leaked some of his irrigation into the performance. His vocal more aggressive, his facial expression colder and his gaze more intense when—if, it ever touched Alex on the side.
Alex was never good with words if they were not written down. He'd usually ponder for quite a while, trying to grasp what exactly he had to say. But they were on stage and there's neither need nor place for him to think thoroughly. Miles was on the other side of the stage, playing his guitar like he could pour his heart into the strings and show the world the inside of his mind simply by strumming them viciously. Alex was unable to do so. What he could do now was to stand there and read.
Miles looked back at him. He walked away and then backwards, almost like he was feeling the same: hesitant, indecisive and caged. Alex read it as a good sign. He was encouraged to be the one who offered his hand first this time, no words needed. Alex took down his mic from the stand, approaching Miles when they started playing the song that (they both were too aware) was the special one.
Some humor was in those lyrics and also in the way they played it: The song was written just like that, in a small, crowded room with Miles standing next to him, hunched to play the guitar. Alex was distracted by the music itself then and only realized they were way too close to each other later. That later somehow extended to a whole decade. Now they were always way too close when playing it.
He didn't come over at first. Alex got down on his knees and for a moment he had Miles' full attention. His gaze was hard and heavy. But when Alex lied down on the floor and did all those ridiculous things, Miles looked away.
Alex knew Miles was not so mad that he'd let it be too obvious. He got up and put his arm around Miles' shoulder, offering him the mic. Alex could feel Miles muscles strained under his touch and the verse he sang almost sounded accusing. When Alex tried to bend down and share the mic with him, Miles pulled away.
It was indeed a bizarre day, Alex guessed. It was unusual that he read Miles wrong. When it happened, it stung.
The show went on nonetheless. Nobody could even tell they were having a silent fight during the entire performance. It was when they got off the stage and Miles declined to go to the afterparty, saying something like not feeling it that their friends began eyeing Alex incredulously.
Alex was at lost. Also he didn't like everyone just assumed that he would know what was going on.
Still, he followed Miles back to the hotel. They sat in the cab silently for the second time of the day. It reminded Alex of the trip to the airport all those years ago, when their first tour ended, and they were about to go their separate ways (which turned out to be not that separate after all). It was hard to breathe in the car, which made him angry again, thinking about how Miles was giving him the cold shoulder and how they were throwing piercing sarcasm at each other' face earlier in the morning for some trivial reasons he still couldn't recall.
"Don't follow me." Miles stopped at the door. Alex was taken aback by his harsh tone.
"Oh, really?" He dragged each word to be unnecessarily long. "That was not what you said last night."
