Burn the Distance.

1: Say It Again

TW: nsfw.

The room around Milo is dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of his phone screen. The blanket is kicked halfway down his legs, his body half-tangled in the sheets, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters but the voice in his ear—shaky, raw, and far too far away.

Elijah.

He's hundreds of miles away in his dorm room, but the way he whispers Milo's name makes it feel like he's right there—breathing against his skin, fingers trailing down his spine like a memory Milo never got to live.

Milo's voice is soft, sultry, already strung tight with want. "I love you," he says, and it pours out like a secret, like a confession he's said a hundred times and still feels like he's saying for the first time.

There's silence—just for a second—and then a breath. Shaky. Vulnerable. Wrecked.

"Again—say it again... please," Elijah begs, the edges of his words crumbling under the weight of need.

Milo's lips part, pulse kicking up, cheeks flushing as heat crawls up his throat. The quiet desperation in Elijah's voice ignites something deep and primal in his chest.

"I love you," Milo breathes again, this time softer, almost reverent.

And then he hears it—a small sound, muffled but unmistakable—a whimper dragged from Elijah's chest. Then the ragged hitch of breath, sharp and uneven, like he's trying not to fall apart.

Milo's thighs press together as his mind races with images—Elijah curled up in his bed, one hand wrapped around himself, the other clutching his phone like it's the only thing tethering him to Milo. His cheeks flushed, lips bitten red, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in every word like oxygen.

"You like that, don't you?" Milo's voice dips lower, laced with something darker. Dangerous. "You want more, baby?"

A gasp. Then silence. Then another broken exhale.

"Yeah..." Elijah's voice cracks. "God, yeah—Milo..."

Milo smirks, fingers tracing lazy lines across his stomach. His whole body is humming, every nerve on fire from nothing but Elijah's voice and the thought of him falling apart on the other end of the line.

"Touch yourself," Milo whispers, and he swears he can feel the way Elijah's body tenses in response.

There's a pause—just a heartbeat long. Like Elijah needs to believe this is real. Like Milo's voice alone is enough to undo him.

"Elijah," Milo says, voice firmer now, coaxing. "I want you to. I want to hear you fall apart for me."

A rustle of sheets. A sharp breath. Then a soft, shuddering moan.

"Fuck," Elijah whispers, voice trembling. "Milo, I—"

"Shh, baby," Milo murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. "Just feel me. Pretend I'm there. My mouth on your neck, my hand on your chest, dragging down your stomach..."

Elijah groans, low and drawn out, and the sound curls in Milo's gut like smoke. He can picture it so clearly—Elijah with his eyes squeezed shut, head tipped back, his hand moving in slow, aching strokes, pretending it's Milo's fingers instead.

"I miss you," Elijah gasps. "God, I miss you so much."

Milo's chest aches at that. The distance—always there, always taunting—is the one thing he can't touch, can't fix with a word. But in this moment, he can give Elijah something else. Something real.

"I'm right here," Milo says, his voice trembling with want. "I'm with you. Feel me, Elijah. Every stroke. Every breath. I'm yours."

The sounds coming through the phone grow more desperate, more frantic. Elijah's name falls from Milo's lips in soft, broken whispers, each one dragging him closer to the edge.

And then—Elijah's breath catches. There's a broken cry, so raw it shatters Milo from the inside out. He presses his lips together, riding the wave of Elijah's release through the tremble in his voice, the silence that follows, the slow, soft breaths that come after.

"Milo..." Elijah whispers, so quiet it almost disappears into the static.

"Yeah?" Milo breathes, heart still racing.

"Promise me you'll say it again. Tomorrow. The next day. Every day."

Milo smiles, eyes slipping shut, the ghost of Elijah's voice still lingering in his ear.

"I'll say it every day," he whispers. "Until I'm there to say it to your face."

Elijah lets out a soft, contented sigh. "I love you."

And this time, it's Milo who's wrecked—completely and utterly ruined by the sound of him.

"I love you too, Elijah."

And even with all the miles between them, it feels like they're holding each other in the dark.