Asymptote (bxb)

Chapter 8: Meet the Parents

There was the clopping noise of heels tripping over the door frame that woke me at a quarter past three. A laugh rung up through the stairs as the unsteady rhythm of the footsteps carried on down the hall, scratching against the worn hardwood.

Miles wasn't sleeping, I realized. Instead he was staring at the blue screen of the television that was projecting an eerie glow over the room. His arm was barely brushing mine.

I winced at the noise of something hitting the floor abruptly below us. Miles looked unfazed, but a glance at his hand rolled up into fists in his white t-shirt told me otherwise. He was probably wishing I had left right now.

My mouth was dry and my head felt heavy, but other than that I was doing okay for a guy who had been yakking behind a tree a few hours ago. I pulled myself up a bit so I was leaning against the metal bedframe, and Miles looked over at me with disinterest.

Another bout of laughter echoed up through the floorboard. It was like being stuck in a horror movie- a notion that was only further proven as the sounds his mother's heels were heard precariously climbing the stairs.

I was frozen as I looked over to Miles for assistance, but he was still watching the static television screen. I could hear the way the railing was creaking from the woman pulling at it. I slowly crept up from the bed, extremely quiet. I couldn't see it ending well if his mother happened to come in to find him with another boy in his bed. I tiptoed towards his closet as she rounded the landing, and barely squeezed inside amidst the containers and clothes. It was pretty much my only option considering I wasn't about to jump out of his two story window and I didn't want to meet his mother today- perhaps not ever, but definitely not like this. I held the door as shut as it would go, but a rack that was attached to the top from which his uniform hung from was preventing it from fully closing.

For a moment, it seemed as though she was going to walk straight past his room, but then there was a lull in her steps and they were coming straight for us. I held my breath with a silent prayer.

Miles' bedroom door opened at the slight nudge she gave it as she stumbled inside. I could only see the dark outline of her figure in the blue light.

"Miles," she hummed, almost lovingly.

"Hi, Mum."

A silent moment passed as she surveyed his room. Her eyes landed right on mine, a piercing green colour unlike the soft brown of Miles. She stepped closer to the closet. My heart skipped a beat as I was sure she had seen me, but then hand landed on the sand globe that sat on his dresser. I had brought it back from Arizona two summers ago for him, and since he had started a collection.

"You left your dishes in the sink," she said, bored as she turned the globe around in her hands. Inside it featured a Native American tribe, in honour of the largest reservation in America, Navajo Nation. I couldn't say what possessed me to buy it, but I went on to get him a green sparkle globe from Dublin with Molly Malone, and a red sparkle koala globe from the Sydney zoo.

"I can do them now, I-"

"It's okay," she started softly, "you obviously just left them for your servant. God just put me on this Earth to clean up after you."

It seemed so ridiculous that I wanted to laugh. If it was my mother, she would have yelled at me to clean it and then threatened me with taking Gemma shopping if I didn't (which, truth be told, wasn't actually the worst thing ever). It was his mother's tone that frightened me though. It was cold. She didn't even seem upset it just sounded like there was no one there.

"Why can't you ever do anything for yourself? You walk away from all your fucking problems."

I didn't want to be here. I wished I could just close my eyes and yell at the top of my lungs and drown everything out as she continued to degrade him. But it was overtly clear that in some diluted part of her mind, she was talking to Miles's father. A father he had never even met, yet he lived his whole life being told he was just as shitty as. Miles was an accident, an unwanted accident, and somehow that was his fault.

"Mum, it's just the dishes," he reasoned; as if somehow it could bring her from her drunken stupor.

"Today it's the dishes, and what will it be tomorrow, Miles? You're just like him, a lazy ingrate."

She stumbled with a laugh and the Arizona sand globe fell to the floor and shattered. She was enjoying this.

"I gave up my career to raise a child who can't even wash his own fucking dishes." She was laughing hysterically now, gripping the side of his dresser to stop herself from falling.

"Useless," was the last thing she said before she turned on her heels and left. I let out a breath of relief that she didn't lay a hand on him because I can't say in all certainty I could have controlled myself. I knew it happened; I had seen the after effects- but to actually be there and watch? I suddenly felt sick again.

I expected her to head to her room, which shared a wall with Miles's, but instead she clomped back down the stairs, her laughter slowly fading.

I pushed the closet door open and stared down at the mess on the floor. I looked up to Miles and noticed his eyes were also trained on it. Carefully, I kicked the pieces of glass into a neat circle before padding back over to the bed and sitting on the side.

"You're not useless."

"I'm a neighbourhood drug dealer, Bailey."

"Am I useless?" I asked, and his gaze met mine, his face softening and his fingers unclenching. I dearly hoped he would protest.

"It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same. We're young and stupid, not useless."

"Say that at my trial in five years." He didn't say it as a joke, but plainly.

"Of course."

"You'll still be here, right? In five years?"

"I'll be here until you tell me to leave." I would be here even after he told me to leave, but Miles liked control. He liked to feel like he had control over everything in his life that he could and I let him believe that.

He shook his head, and the fact his hand brushed my leg did not go unnoticed. "I could never do that."

"Miles, I-I-" I swallowed all the words I wanted to say and pushed myself up from the bed.

"I have to go."

a/n I know it's been pretty slow and I wish I could definitively say that it's going to pick up soon but I can't because I just don't know... what I can say is it's been pretty miserable lately but it's going to get better.