𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚜
Miles POV

Driving back home by myself on Friday night was one of the worst fucking things I've ever done.

I couldn't stop thinking about how Parker looked at me. It was terrifying to see that look of pure hatred, fear, and anguish on his face. Honestly, I couldn't tell if he was going to punch my lights out or break down into a puddle of misery.

By the time I got home that night, I felt like I was going to do both.

It didn't help that when I walked back inside my house, the first thing mom asked was, He's such a nice boy. Why didn't you trust to tell him?

Two nights later, I'm still trying to figure that out.

I have no excuses for keeping that secret except for the fear of losing our relationship. There is no denying the connection between Parker and me. I know that for a fact.

Unfortunately, I also know that Parker flips his shit each time an ounce of strain is applied to that connection.

Since I have to move out of the country, it's safe to assume that's quite a bit of strain.

"God damn, this sucks!" I hiss in annoyance as I try texting Parker again. He's been ignoring my attempts to get in touch all day long. I wouldn't be surprised if this is his way of getting back at me since I played this game with him when we first dated. This is not what I want to be doing on our first day of Christmas break.

At least he had enough decency to text me a few words yesterday morning to ease my anxiety.

So, I left Parker alone. Until today, now that it's been twenty-four hours, and I'm getting nothing from him but silence. Our relationship has a timer on it, and he still chooses to ignore me.

Yes, I get that it sucks majorly to know that our time together is limited, but wouldn't that also spur him to come back to me?

"That son of a bitch," I mumble and roll out of bed. Parker might want to pretend that I don't exist right now, except I don't feel the same way. I've got to go see him and explain myself.

Grabbing my car keys, I check my phone one more time before I leave my room. Nada. Nothing. Shit.

I grind my teeth and slip on a pair of sandals before leaving the house, locking the door behind me. It's no surprise that I'm home alone today. The only change is that my mom isn't at work; she gets to spend most of the day down at the courthouse scribbling on paperwork. We will be doing a lot of that over these next few months.

As I get in my car and start the engine, my entire body convulses in a barely-contained panic attack. Just the thought of what I will have to endure these next few weeks makes me want to drive my car off the Golden Gate Bridge. I'd rather drown in the Pacific Ocean than move forward with a life where I have to leave Parker to deal with my deadbeat dad.

Correction: deal with my homophobic, abusive, drug-dealing, gang-banging, rotten excuse for a father that nearly put a bullet between my eyes.

I grip the wheel with iron strength to calm myself down, muttering to myself, "Get a damn grip, Miles."

I give myself a moment to breathe and calm down before shifting my car into reverse. It's about time that I go and find my boy.

- - -

The strength I thought I had earlier instantly evaporates as I pull into Parker's driveway. I had this elaborate plan to apologize, explain my situation, and make up, but now that I'm staring at his house, I seem to forget the English language.

"Esto es un pesadilla," I grumble and unbuckle once I turn my car off.

The chill in the air makes me shiver as I get out, or maybe it's the horror of what I'm about to do. Shuffling my way to the front door, I knock before slipping my hands into my pockets. I chew on my cheek and spin around in a slow circle, looking around the house. There is no way that the house is empty because I saw his room light on when I pulled in, and his car is parked in the driveway.

I let out a slow sigh and watch the fog of my breath drift off toward the darkening sky. December is definitely upon us— I'm freezing my ass off.

As I contemplate returning to my car, the deadbolt shifts and unlocks with a loud thunk.

I whip back around, a new heat pumping through my body. I'm not completely banished after all. Except the person standing at the door isn't Parker.

"Miles?" Quinn asks, apprehensive. Her watery eyes meet mine, and I feel like I've been shot again. She's tearing up at the sight of me. I knew that I hurt Parker instantly on Friday night, but it never occurred to me that he would tell his parents. At least, I didn't think they would be affected, too.

I smile softly, mournfully, when my throat tightens. It's difficult to speak, but I manage to squeeze out, "Hey, Quinn. Is there any way... Look, can I come in?"

She nods vigorously and opens the door wider for me. Before I can even mumble a thank you and get one foot in the door, she meets me halfway and wraps me in a hug so tight that I feel like my ribs are going to crack.

I wince and hug her back, closing my eyes to keep the tears from running down my face. Slowly, I have to inhale deeply to keep from shaking.

We're silent for a moment, the hug saying way more than my words ever could. Still, I feel obligated to whisper, "I'm so sorry."

His mom nods and breaks the hug to brush away her tears. She steps back, letting me in. The door shuts behind me.

"I'm sorry that it had to come down to this. I know you mentioned that you might have to leave at some point, but I never thought it would happen. And so soon," Quinn says quietly and tucks her icy blonde hair behind her ears. She must have aged another twenty years over the past two days because her dark roots are showing drastically.

"Me neither," I admit guiltily and slide my shoes off.

She rubs her thumbs under her eyes and starts to walk away before pausing and looking at me, a sudden light in her eyes. "How long are you going to be gone? A month or two?"

My stomach catches and pulls like a fish on a hook.

I could lie and give her, give Parker, false hope. Maybe tell them that, yeah, I'll be back after the new year. That way, I won't have to see this family crumble when I tell them that I won't be coming back. It's always easier to break up over the phone.

That's also the coward's way out. I have to tell the truth. "At least a year, minimum. It depends on how long the case stretches out and where my mom will be financially from this. California is really fuc— friggin' expensive. The upcoming move is already going to drain us again."

That same light is immediately diminished. Quinn swallows. "Oh." Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat, glancing away. "I know you came over here for Parker, so I'll let you go upstairs and tell him. Although... be careful. He's been desolated all weekend. We haven't had much luck getting through to him."

Her words are another twisting knife in my gut. I have to chomp on my tongue to hold myself together long enough so I can get upstairs. "Okay, I will. Thanks," I mumble and head toward the second level.

Quinn hums in acknowledgment and shuffles towards the kitchen, glancing at me as I bound up the staircase. I ignore her prying gaze as I reach the next floor and walk down the hall to Parker's room. Again, my hands are shaking as I knock on his door, but it's not from the cold this time.

"Mom, I told you to leave me alone," a bitter voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Great, I curse at myself in the head and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.

I'm the one who did this: taking a broken, hurting boy and dangling a true chance of healing in front of his face, only to smash him back onto the ground and shatter him into pieces. Not on purpose, though it still sucks ass that our time together came down to... this.

For a second, I consider fleeing and pretending that I never came over here.

There's no way my conscious can handle that heat. I open my eyes and try the door handle. Surprisingly, it's not locked and pushes right open.

"Sorry, I'm not your mom," I say quietly and slip inside, shutting the bedroom door behind me.

Christ, it's a crime scene in here. Parker is keeping his room pitch black, aside from the purple LED lights lit under his gaming desk. The lights cast a somber ambiance over the mess in his room; scattered clothes, dishes with picked-at dinners that his parents must be bringing up, and untouched winter break homework.

Parker himself is lying down under a blanket on his bed. He surges up at the sound of my voice and considering the state of his hair, face, and clothes, my guess is that this is his first time moving all day.

"What are you doing here?" He questions as if it's not obvious.

"I need to talk to you, explain myself, and make sure you're not withering away." I walk over to his bed and motion. "Can I sit?"

Parker hesitates, then nods. I sit down as he sits up more, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees.

Again, I exhale and look over at Parker. Now that I'm closer to him, he looks absolutely distraught. I have always been aware that he has battled with symptoms of anxiety and depression for most of his life, however, this situation must be peeling back all of those layers. I hardly recognize the boy I'm looking at.

He doesn't even bother to speak. The most he does is stare at me. I can tell he's trying to keep his expression blank, but the emotions brewing under his eyes make me want to sob.

"First, you need to understand that this situation is out of my control," I start by explaining myself.

"You know that if I had a choice, I would choose to stay here with you. I didn't tell you about my family moving because I knew that it would wreck us. No part of me wanted to spend our last days together in fear, misery, or whatever. I just... I just wanted to be with you. And enjoy it, and not think about..." My voice cracks, and I stop talking, quickly catching my breath so I won't hyperventilate.

This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.

Parker keeps looking at me, tears streaming down his face, and he blinks to clear them away. For a moment, we're both quiet. Finally, he asks, "Why?"

I inhale deeply. This is something I can answer. "My dad's case is being dealt with earlier than we thought. The court needs us back down in Mexico so we can all proceed with the legal matters. We need to deal with his bullshit, my sister's legal home and my mom's drug rehab now that she's been clean for a while." I can almost feel his second question brewing, so I answer it before he can ask. "I'll be gone for a while. Like, at least a year or two. There's no rushing the government down there."

Parker squeezes his eyes shut and presses his hands against his eyes, inhaling deeply.

There's no use in holding back my heartbreak as I stand and walk around the bed over to his side. I sit back down, and shockingly, I don't even have to grab Parker. He practically collapses into my arms, his shoulders shaking as he starts to sob.

I wish I could tell him it'll be okay.

I want to promise that he's okay, that this situation will buff out. The truth is, there's nothing that I can say to install peace or comfort.

This is it.

For a few minutes, all we can do is mourn together. His tears soak my sweatshirt, and I press endless kisses into his hair. Each one feels like the second hand on a clock, ticking down our time together.

Finally, Parker pulls himself together enough to shift away and wipe his face with the blanket. He asks me a question so quietly that I almost miss it.

"When do you have to leave...?"

I rub his shoulder and pause, my vision blurring again. "December 18th."

"Fuck," Parker curses and shakes his head, wiping his eyes again.

A little under two weeks.

"I know," I whisper and watch as he drags both hands back through his hair. "Parker, I don't know if we should..."

"Don't fucking say it," he suddenly snaps at me, his sadness twisting into anger. "We are not fucking breaking up. Just because you're leaving doesn't mean we have to pretend that nothing happened between us." His voice shakes with barely-restrained tears. "I've never been more fucking terrified to lose something in my whole life, Miles. Nothing in this stupid world has meant more to me than you. I'm always going to be in love with you, okay? Even through this shit, and even if we aren't going to be together, I'm always going to be in love with you!"

Parker is in love with me.

This wouldn't be the time to admit it, but I'm in love with him, too. That's why I weep at his words. Tremors make my shoulders shake, and my stomach clenches with nausea.

This time, I feel Parker's hands slide around my shoulders and pull me close, holding me to his chest as we grieve together.