Chapter Text
He's still Alex, mostly, which is why Miles isn't really worried to start. His eyes are just as clever and preceptive behind that thick mane of wavy hair, his hands are just as steady when he lights a cigarette for them to share, and he seems just as sure of himself when he plays those complicated riffs on stage. He's quiet, maybe a little more so that usual, but Alex is quiet.
Miles does notice that Alex has punched a new hole in his belt and clothes hang a little looser on his slight frame than they used to. And Alex is tired, more attached to his afternoon nap than Miles recalls him being. And he looks just a little unwell, but Miles chalks all of that up to the fact that he's been on tour for a while and he's probably stressed and exhausted. The Monkeys are back in London, though, and this is their last show and Miles is counting down until he and Alex can hide out in his flat. Some rest and relaxation and good cooking and Alex will be right back to himself, Miles knows. He just has to play this show, first.
Right now, though, Alex is asleep on Miles' shoulder in the dressing room. He had said something about being glad Miles was there and when he needed to wake up, then curled into Miles' side and fallen asleep. Miles isn't surprised-- it's Alex's naptime and Miles isn't necessarily one to boast, but he's absolutely certain that his shoulder is a more comfortable place for Alex's nap than anywhere else. Miles is just pondering taking a nap of his own when the door opens. It's Matt, carrying a six-pack and looking quite proud of himself. Miles gestures for him to be quiet and points at Alex as soon as Matt opens his mouth.
Matt sets his six-pack on the counter then, quietly, pulls a chair up next to Miles' spot on the couch. He studies Alex for a moment, then asks, "You think he's ok?"
"Do you think he isn't?"
Matt shrugs. "I dunno. He seems tired. He doesn’t look well."
Miles nods. "I think this tour's taken a lot out of him. You know how he gets sometimes."
Matt doesn't look totally convinced, but he shrugs and nods anyway.
"Matt?"
"I dunno what it is, I've just got a bad feeling."
Miles nods again, but says, "He's still Alex, ya'know. He's still himself, just exhausted."
"Take care of him, will you?"
"I, we, I mean-"
Matt offers a little smiles at Miles' stumbling, then says, "I know you two are going home together. Just take good care of him."
Miles casts a glance at Alex, still asleep on his shoulder, and nods. "Yeah. I will."
Matt nods. He looks like he has more to say about it, but what he does say is, "You should wake him up soon. We've only got an hour or so and you know he takes forever to actually wake up," before he leaves again, likely in search of Nick and Jamie.
Miles casts his attention to Alex. He looks very much at ease and Miles is loathe to interrupt that, especially considering how tired he's looked lately, but Miles does recall Alex asking him to wake him if he slept too long. Reluctantly, Miles cards his fingers gently through Alex's mess of long hair and murmurs, "It's time to wake up, love."
Alex shifts, pressing himself a little closer to Miles.
"Come on, babe, you've got a show to play," Miles tries. "You've got about an hour, I think."
Alex is awake by now, but he's protesting by not answering and trying to get as close to Miles as he can.
"Al, you've gotta get up," Miles says, running his fingers back through Alex's hair.
Alex shakes his head this time and mumbles, "Don't wanna. 's cold. You're warm."
"Sit up for me, baby?" Miles requests.
Alex does as Miles asks, but not without a sleepy glare and some grumbling.
Miles presses his hand to Alex's forehead and studies him for a moment, before asking, "Are you ok? Are you coming down with something? Gonna be honest, babe, you don't look so great and it's warm in here and you've got a jumper and a blanket."
Alex gives him a mock glare and pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders, saying, "Dunno. Maybe. I haven't really had time to slow down lately, but I'm fine."
"I know," Miles murmurs, pulling Alex back into his arms, "but you're gonna have an awesome final show and as soon as you're done here, I'm gonna take you home and you can get some rest. I'll make you tea, and I'll order you take-out, or I'll cook if you want, and you can sleep as long as you like until you're feelin' better, yeah?"
Alex nods, echoing, "Yeah." Then, "Thanks, Mi."
Miles runs his fingers through Alex's hair, organizing some wayward curls, then goes in for a quick kiss. When he pulls back, Alex is wearing a slight blush that Miles has found himself well acquainted with, but finds wildly endearing nonetheless. Alex rests his head against Miles' shoulder again for a brief moment, letting Miles continue to play with his hair, before he gets up abruptly, his blanket falling to the floor and socked feet silent on the tile of the dressing room as he moves to get dressed for the show. Suddenly, Miles is far more worried about Alex than he had been barely twenty minutes ago. He's not sure why, but he's beginning to share Matt's feeling that something might be wrong.
Alex comes back a few minutes later, dressed and ready to go in a loose t-shirt Miles has seen pictures of him in throughout this the tour. It dawns on him that the t-shirt seems a little looser and shows a little more of Alex's collarbones that are becoming more defined and chest every time Miles sees it. Miles wants to say something, but he's pretty sure anything he has to say will start an argument and Alex doesn't need that right before he's supposed to be on stage. Instead, Miles just welcomes Alex back into his arms.
"You sure you're feelin' ok?" Miles murmurs when Alex is resting against him again.
Alex nods. "Yeah. Just tired. And I missed you."
Miles smiles. "Missed you too."
"Thanks for coming tonight."
"I wouldn't miss it," Miles promises. He has more to say, things that might earn him that slight blush of Alex's that he loves, or things that might earn him Alex's laugh, but the door opens and Matt, Nick, and Jamie join them in the dressing room. Alex untangles himself from Miles some and sits up on the couch. They're still close and they're still touching, like they always are, but they look less like lovers and more like they just don't have boundaries.
Miles tries not to hate the fact that Alex is hiding them from his friends, but he does. He gets that Alex isn't ready yet, but he's not about to pretend he doesn't hate it. He knows he's not there as Alex's partner, he's there to play "505" but he wants to be there as Alex's partner. He wants to be there as Alex's partner who is worried and gets to be worried. He doesn't want to have to hide.
It’s a good show, all in all. Alex performs as nearly well as he usually does and he looks ethereal bathed in the stage lights, but Miles catches him fumble a couple of chords and a complicated riff from his spot in the wings. Miles does his best to chalk it up to end-of-tour exhaustion, but he's still just a little worried. When he goes out to play "505," Miles greets Alex with a hug and a lingering touch, like he always does, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right and Miles is undeniably worried. Alex doesn’t feel quite right. It's nothing he can't solve, though. Some rest, good food, and time to decompress and Alex will be right back to himself. Miles is sure of it.
After the show, they all reconvene in the dressing room, and from there, they end up in a dark and smokey club and Miles looses Alex after the first drink. Eventually, he finds him on the patio, nursing a drink and lighting a cigarette. Miles murmurs a greeting wraps his arms around Alex's waist and rest his chin on his shoulder.
"Lost ya in there," he comments.
Alex hums, acknowledging Miles without words.
"Somethin' goin' on, love?" Miles asks. "You're giving me plenty of opportunities to worry about ya."
Alex shakes he head. "Sorry. No, it's just loud and crowded and 'm tired."
Alex sounds a little checked out, so Miles asks, "How many drinks have ya had?"
Alex lifts the one he's holding a few centimeters. "My second."
"Two drinks on a night out when you're celebrating? You're gettin' old, Al," Miles teases.
Alex gives a little chuckle, mostly to humor Miles. He takes a drink, then asks, "Would you be disappointed to go home now? 'm not really feelin' the party."
"'course not." Miles fights through all of Alex's long hair to place a kiss on his check and murmur, "Another time, yeah?"
"Yeah." Alex stubs out his cigarette and places his half-empty glass on a table and mumbles his thanks. Then, he lets Miles wrap an arm around his waist and lead him back inside to say their goodbyes.
Outside, Miles hails them a cab and after brief deliberation, directs the cabbie to Alex's flat. Alex perks back up a little in the cab, talking some about his tour went and laughing for real when Miles says something funny. The cabbie looks a little annoyed by their banter at such a late hour, which only makes them laugh harder, but they're sure to tip handsomely at the end. Alex's perkiness is short-lived, though, and by the time they close the door to his flat, he's gone back to being quiet and tired. Miles, on the other hand, is starving.
"You hungry?" he asks, watching Alex open the wrong cupboard while he refamiliarizes himself with the flat.
Alex gives a one-shouldered shrug and says, "Not really. Why? You thinking about cooking or ordering summat? Chinese place on the corner is open all night." He fishes the takeout menu from the junk drawer and slides it across the counter to Miles.
"I was wonderin' if you wanted to order somethin'," Miles confesses, scanning the menu. "What do you want? Do you want anything?"
Alex gives another little shrug and says, "I dunno. Whatever is fine. 'm gonna get a quick shower, but if you tell 'em it's for me, they'll deliver so you don't have to go back out."
"Ok. Are you sure you don't want something specific?"
Alex shakes his head. "I'm just tired, ya'know? But you could order me summat if it's not too much trouble."
"Don't be ridiculous," Miles says gently. He's becoming more and more worried about Alex, fearing that whatever is going on is more than just post-tour exhaustion.
Alex shoots him a little smile and produces his wallet, sliding it across the counter to Miles. "Should be some cash in there," he says. "Give 'em a good tip so they keep delivering to me, yeah?"
"Sure," Miles agrees. He watches Alex leave, head down and shoulders hunched, like he's trying to make himself smaller, but Miles keeps trying to convince himself Alex is just tired. Right?
Miles recalls ordering from this restaurant before, so he orders the same thing Alex had last time and chooses something at random for himself. He gives Alex's name to the woman on the other end of the phone and she immediately promises prompt delivery and, of course, he thanks her, even though he doesn't care quite as much as he did about getting food. He had been hungry, but the more he thinks about how un-Alex-like Alex seems, his hunger fades to worry. Matt's words about a bad feeling come floating back and Miles is forced to acknowledge his own bad feeling.
Alex comes back out not two minutes after the delivery person leaves. Miles recognizes both his trackie bottoms and jumper as having once been his, but he's not going to say anything about it. Not when Alex looks as sad and tired as he does. Miles isn't sure why Alex looks so sad or why he would think Alex looks be so sad, but he does. Miles doesn't say anything about it while they eat at the breakfast bar, though. Really it's more Miles eating while Alex pokes at his food and takes the tiniest bites he can. Miles wants to say something about it, wants to remind Alex to eat or ask him if he feels ok, but he has a feeling that wouldn't be his best choice. He's probably just tired.
When they're done, Miles puts their leftovers in the fridge and comments that Alex will need to grocery shopping now that he's home. He gets a mumbled agreement and Alex looks like he's about to fall asleep at the counter, so Miles leads him down the hall to his bedroom, figuring he can worry about things like grocery shopping in the morning.
In bed, Alex tucks himself as close to Miles as he can, still clad in his trackie bottoms and jumper, while Miles strips down to his boxers and a t-shirt. Absently, Miles strokes his fingers across Alex's ribs and belly. He thinks he feels the tiniest flinch from Alex when his fingers find their way under his jumper, but when he asks, Alex says it's ok. Miles' list of things to worry about is getting longer, though, because he's pretty sure that Alex's ribs never used to be quite so prominent and his belly never used to feel almost concave. After a long time, Alex breaks their quiet.
"Hey, Mi?"
"Yeah, love?"
"Do you, uh, do ya mind if I get another blanket?"
"Not at all," Miles murmurs. "You stay here, I'll go grab one, ok?"
"Thanks."
Miles clamors out of bed, making sure the blankets are tucked around Alex before he leaves and goes to pull two blankets from the linen closet. Alex is all but shivering when he gets back.
"I brought two, do you want them both?" Miles asks.
"If that's ok," Alex mumbles. "Don't want to make you too warm."
Miles tells him not worry and drapes the blankets over Alex, nearly drowning him in blankets, then lays back down, letting Alex curl back into him and resuming his strokes across Alex's ribs and belly. "I think you're coming down with something, Al, baby," Miles says softly once they're comfortable.
"Might be," Alex agrees. Then, "It's this fuckin' city. Always cold and rainy. 'm gonna move somewhere warm, one day. South of France, Southern Italy, hell, maybe, the US. Could go to LA. Would you come with me if I moved, Mi? Tell me you'd come." Alex sounds almost delirious with exhaustion by now and he's slurring his words like he's drunk. "I love you. I love you, Miles. Wouldn't go if you wouldn't come. I love you.
"I'd go with you, Aly, 'course I would," Miles responds. "Go to sleep now, yeah? I love you, too."
Alex nods and grumbles something about still being cold, so Miles holds him a little tighter, and he drifts off. With Alex asleep, Miles is left with nothing but his worries, so he does his best the shelve them to go to sleep, too.
Miles wakes first in the morning. Alex is still curled into his embrace, so he lets himself drift off again, thinking Alex will wake up soon, too. He's wrong, though, and after about forty-five minutes, he feels horribly restless, so he carefully untangles himself from Alex and hunts down the running clothes and shoes he'd left a while ago. He feels bad for getting up, though, so he drapes yet another blanket over Alex's sleeping form and leaves a note on the bedside table and heads out for his run.
Alex is still asleep when Miles gets back. That's over ten hours of sleep by Miles' count, but he figures that if Alex really is coming down with something, being well-rested will help him fight it off. Miles showers in the guest bathroom, rather than the master, in an effort to let Alex sleep as long as possible. He's still, still, asleep when Miles is out of the shower, so Miles edits the note on the bedside table and heads out to grab some things to make breakfast. Alex is just barely beginning to wake when Miles pokes his head back into the bedroom after he gets back, so Miles takes up his spot in bed again and runs gentle fingers through Alex's hair, coaxing him into wakefulness.
"Good morning," Miles murmurs, once he deems Alex awake enough to talk. "Was beginning to think you'd sleep all day, too. How do ya feel?"
"Tired."
"You just slept for about twelve hours."
Alex hums and tugs at his blankets.
"Still cold?"
A nod.
Miles gives him a worried look, but decides that Alex still isn't quite ready for a real conversation, so instead he says, "I ran to the shops so I could make ya breakfast. How's that sound?"
"Not hungry."
"Alex."
"I'm not," he protests. "Think 'm getting sick."
"Still gotta eat somethin', love," Miles responds. "When was the last time you ate a full meal? Or a good meal?"
Alex shrugs. "Dunno."
"Exactly." Miles feels a little smug and a little less worried.
Alex gives him what seems like an attempted glare, but it ends up looking a little bit pouty and very endearing, so Miles leans over and gives him a kiss. Alex looks a little less upset when Miles pulls away, so he goes back in for another, and another, and another, until Alex is laughing and his kisses are landing almost anywhere but Alex's lips. When he finally pulls away for real, Alex is smiling and Miles is elated to have earned it.
Alex wraps a blanket around his shoulders when he gets out of bed-- the thickest, heaviest one he can find in the mountain Miles left him with-- then follows Miles down the hallway to the kitchen. When he gets there, Miles has put the kettle on and directs him to a seat at the breakfast bar.
"Can I help? Do you want help?" Alex asks when Miles passes him a seaming mug of herbal tea.
"You in the kitchen is the stuff of my nightmares, love," Miles answers, an easy smile on his face as he moves around Alex's kitchen. "You just sit there and look pretty. And drink your tea."
Alex's expression falters when Miles calls him pretty, but he fixes it fast enough that Miles almost misses it. He does as he's told though and drinks his tea while Miles cooks. He wants to appreciate the smell of eggs and French toast and sausage, but by the time Miles sets a plate in front of him, his tea has gone cold and he feels a little sick to his stomach.
Still, Alex can't bear to see Miles disappointed or worried, so he eats most of the eggs and the sausage and a few bites of the French toast. It's the most he's eaten in weeks, but he can still see the shadow of worry thrown across Miles' face. He doesn't say anything about it though when he goes the clean up. Again, Alex tries to help, but Miles just pours him another cup of tea and tells him to stay there and be pretty again. Alex has a harder time patching up his expression when Miles calls him pretty this time, but he does it. He just doesn't feel very pretty with everything he's eaten sitting heavy in his stomach as he silently begs his body to put up with it, only because he doesn't want to argue with Miles.
When Miles is done cleaning up, he takes up a spot leaning against the counter next to Alex. "You sure you ok? You don't look so great."
"First you tell me I'm pretty then you tell me I don't look so great. Which is it?"
Miles gives a little chuckle, mostly because he knows that's what Alex was after, but he asks, "Do I need to take you to a walk-in clinic? I'm worried about you."
Alex shakes his head. "Nah. 'm ok. Really. End of the tour really hit me is all."
Miles isn't quite convinced, but he drops it. Starting an argument won't do them any good.
"'m ok, Mi. Really."
"Ok. Unfortunately, I have a meeting that I couldn't get anyone to reschedule, so I've gotta get goin' soon, but I'll come back after, ok? Bring ya chicken soup or somethin'." He's not lying, not really, but he feels a little bad. He does have a meeting, but when he's done, he's going to meet Matt because he was right to be worried about Alex.
Alex nods. "'m probably gonna go back to bed," he admits, "so just let yourself in, ok?"
"Sure," Miles agrees. "Feel better, ok?"
Alex nods. "Do my best."
Miles presses a kiss to his forehead, then he's out the door and Alex is alone.
The nausea hasn't really subsided, so Alex heads for the bathroom, leaving his blanket on the bed as he goes and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He didn't mean for this to happen and he hates this part of it, but someone he'd met all of once the last time he was in that particular city at that particular venue pointed out that he'd gained a little bit of weight. He'd laughed awkwardly and then she'd said something about how he hardly looked like the teenage boy he had been. It wasn't that he wanted to keep looking like the awkward teenage boy he'd been, and he hadn't meant for it to become him hunched over the toilet because he couldn't keep down the breakfast his loving boyfriend had made. He'd only meant for it to be a little longer in hotel gyms, fewer mindless snacks, healthier meals, but he was looking for some control somewhere in the chaos of being on tour and this is what it came to.
When he first realized what it had become, he felt stupid, but when Miles called one night and said he looked ethereal, Alex decided to let it be. Miles noticed, Miles thought he looked good, better than good, and he was growing comfortable with and attached to the empty feeling. The downside was how his brain felt fuzzy sometimes and couldn't remember all the chords for songs he'd written. He's not so stupid to think Miles only cares about what he looks like though. He can recall those French afternoons and evenings they spent together, confessing their feelings, and the short time they'd spent touring and stealing moments in dressing rooms and empty busses and bathrooms. Miles never called him ethereal or pretty back then, but he'd never doubted the feelings. No, he simply likes the compliments and the empty feeling.
When the dizzy feeling that comes with vomiting until you're empty subsides, Alex clamors to his feet, flushes the toilet, and rinses his mouth, then inspects himself in the mirror. His hair is a little messy and his eyes are a little bloodshot, but that's to be expected. His cheekbones look a little sharper, maybe, and his collarbones a little more obvious where his jumper slides down to reveal them. He's not reaching a verdict on the version of himself in the mirror, though, so he lets himself fall back into bed, under the mountain of blankets Miles had left him. Everything smells just a little like Miles' cologne and he's tired, so it's easy for him to drift back off to sleep.
Miles doesn't turn back up until the evening. When he lets himself in, Alex is on the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching TV. He mutes it when he hears Miles, who brought chicken soup, as promised, which he leaves in the fridge, before joining Alex on the couch.
"How ya feelin'?" Miles asks.
"Little better. Me nap helped." It's not a total lie; Alex is feeling better and did feel much better than he had when he woke up from his nap. "Not perfect though."
"I think you're perfect," Miles says, raising his voice just a little bit and putting on a face, which earns his a laugh from Alex. He drops it and says, "Really, though, I do." When Alex offers a much softer smile, he continues, "So, I have a confession to make. Don't be mad, ok?"
"What is it?"
"I'm worried about you. Matt is worried about you, so I met up with him after my meeting. He wanted to come stage an intervention."
"I've caught a cold or summat, and I just got done with a tour, Miles. I'll feel shitty for a few days, but I'll be fine. You and Matthew don't need to have secret little meetings about me."
Miles sighs. "I love you, ok? I'm askin' you this because I love you."
Alex can feel the wave of panic that rolls over him because he knows exactly what Miles is about to ask and he shakes his head. "Miles-"
"Have you been eating, Alex? Or, have you been not eating? On purpose?"
"Miles-"
"Yes or no, Alex. It's a yes or no question."
"You watched me eat this morning," Alex tries. "You watched me eat last night."
"I watched you poke at your food and take the tiniest bites you could last night and you ate, like, three bites this morning."
"It was at least four," Alex offers and Miles glares. Any other time he would have gotten a chuckle for a comment like that.
"Don't," Miles says. "Don't make a joke of it. You've lost weight and you're cold all the time. And I forgot my jacket when I left this morning and when I came back for it I heard you in the bathroom."
Alex flushes red. Somehow, that's the most humiliating part of this whole thing.
"Talk to me, Al. I can't help if you won't talk to me."
Alex wants to make a bitchy comment about how he never asked for help. It's what he would say to anyone else, but he can't say it Miles.
"I know you don't want help, but I won't watch you destroy yourself. I won't, so you've got to say something ok?" Miles continues.
"I-" And then there's tears and big, heaving sobs that wrack Alex's fragile body and he flings himself against Miles, face pressed into the soft wool of his jumper.
"Baby, Alex, baby, we're gonna figure it out, ok? I promise. I’m not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, Al, love, ok? You matter and I'm going to help you be ok, alright?" Just as Miles thinks Alex is going to stop crying, he's hit with a new wave of sobs and there's nothing to do but wait it out. Miles rubs his back and keeps talking, quiet reassurances cutting through the sobbing. Finally, when Alex's sobbing tapers off and he pulls himself away from Miles shoulder, Miles asks, "Are you ready to talk?"
Alex shakes his head. "I, uh, can I have a glass of water? And maybe some painkillers?"
"'course you can." Miles gets up and disappears into the kitchen, but in a few moments, he's back with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He hands Alex the glass, then two pills, and watches as he swallows the pills and when he's done, takes the empty glass and ibuprofen bottle back to the kitchen.
"I, um, it's about, uh," Alex begins when Miles sits back down. He's hiding behind his curtain of unkept hair, and he's never been more grateful that he grew it out. "It's about control," he finally gets out. "Everyone has something to say about me, 'bout what I am, what I should do, where I should go, what I should look like, how I should behave. I can't tell 'em all to fuck off, but I can control meself. I didn't mean for it to be this."
"I know, love."
"And I, well, I like it when you call me pretty and you said I looked ethereal that time, and I, well, it snowballed. I'm sorry."
"Fuck, Al, you don't have to starve yourself for me to think you're pretty. Fuck. I don't-"
"I know," Alex cuts in. "I know you don't just love me for how I look, but I liked it. And it's not about looks, I just, it feels good."
"You are amazing and stunning and fantastic and gorgeous and I love you so, so much and I want you to be happy and healthy."
Alex offers a little sad smiles and says, "Thanks, but that doesn't change it, you know."
"I know."
Alex nods. "I need you to know that. I need to know you know."
"I do know," Miles promises.
"I'm sorry. You, you weren't supposed to find out. I was gonna get it under control and I was gonna be ok and you were never supposed to know."
"You don't have to do it on your own now. I'm in your corner. I'll always be in your corner. "
"Still, I'm sorry."
"We're gonna find you a doctor and-"
"Not now, Miles, please. I can't think about this anymore. Later, tomorrow, whatever, just, not now, ok?"
"Ok," Miles agrees. "I know I'm pushing my luck, but what do you think about some soup? Just a couple bites and you can be done whenever you need to be."
Alex wants to be a dick and say, no, I'm done, no more, but Miles is sitting there looking expectant and if Alex hasn't broken his heart completely yet, maybe he can manage a couple bites of chicken soup for that look on Miles's face. "Just a couple," Alex warns.
Miles looks like he just got the best news of life, and Alex feels twin jolts of shame and guilt. Miles shouldn't have to look like that simply because Alex has agreed to eat a few bites of soup. That should be reserved for when they finally have time to start writing together again, or something equally as amazing and Alex is beginning to wonder if anything can be salvaged from the mess he's made of things.
He doesn't get long to wonder, though, because Miles is back with a warm bowl of soup and a napkin that he passes to Alex. Once he's sure Alex's unsteady hands aren't going to drop the bowl, he sits on the couch, finds the remote, and flips the TV on. Alex thinks he might start crying again, but he forces himself to whisper his thanks which earns him another brilliant smile from Miles. In hindsight, Miles probably thought he was being thanked for the soup, not turning on the TV.
Alex makes it through a few bites, doing his best to eat the chicken, the noodles, and the vegetables, before he's desperate to be done. He can feel Miles' not-so-subtle watchful look, so he carefully eats another piece of chicken, then a noodle, then another piece of chicken and some of the broth for good measure, before he has to be done. He can still feel Miles watching, though, so he shakes his head and sets the bowl on the end table, whispering, "I'm done. I, I can't."
There's disappointment across Miles' face that Alex wishes he didn't have to see, but maybe that's his cosmic punishment for putting it there. Either way, Miles is trying hard to hide it, so he kisses Alex on the forehead and takes his bowl back to the kitchen. When he gets back, Alex has pulled his blankets a little tighter and is on the verge of falling asleep.
"Back to bed, love?" Miles asks, quietly.
Alex casts him a sheepish glance. "I, yeah. I feel like an old lady, but it's been a hard day."
"I know."
Alex clamors to his feet and Miles is suddenly struck by how small he has become. He doesn't say anything, though, just loops his arm around Alex and walk him to the bedroom, then returns to turn off the TV and the lights and gather up all of Alex's blankets. The bathroom door is closed when Miles gets back, sending worry shooting through him, but Alex comes out a few moments later. When he catches Miles' worried look, he shakes his head and mumbles that he didn't and climbs into bed, so Miles leaves it alone, even though he'd like to ask. Once Miles has brushed his teeth, washed his face, and spread extra blankets across Alex, he climbs into bed, too, and Alex tucks himself close.
Somehow, the world feels both a little better and a little worse to Miles. He knows now and there's something to point at and try to fix, but he looks around and he sees evidence of this thing that has invaded Alex's life. If he could get his hands on the first person who said anything, Miles thinks he might feel a little better. It wouldn't change anything and he's not a violent person, but he's also not about the catharsis that might bring. For now, though, Alex is asleep, and Miles is tired, and the fight can be fought in the morning, too.