Come on, get yourself together, it's only coffee.
There's food there.
That doesn't mean I have to have any.
But you will.
Because you're weak.
Pathetic.
Loser.
Loserweakuglypatheticfatloserweak-
"Tris?" Miles nudged him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"I asked you if- are you sure you're ok?" Miles' brow furrowed as he saw Tristan's broken expression.
"Um yeah," Tristan started walking faster, reaching for the handle of the passenger seat, but Miles stopped him, placing his hand on Tristan's shoulder and turning him around.
"Please just, look at me."
Tristan waited a few seconds before reluctantly meeting Miles' gaze. The deep, despair stricken eyes looking back at him took Miles aback. He caught his breath.
"Talk to me." Miles pleaded, his heart aching with desperation, the desire to help his boyfriend intensifying. He knew that Tristan had been acting weird since they got back together, one second he was happy and the next he was choking back tears, maybe he was still mad at him? But then why won't he talk? But Miles' pleas were only met with a barely audible whisper claiming that he was fine. Frustrated, Miles got in the driver's seat. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, despite Miles' continued efforts to try to get Tristan to talk. It was only when Miles pulled into the parking lot at the Dot that Tristan finally spoke.
"Thanks for caring," Tristan said, looking up at Miles for the first time since they got in the car.
"Always."
Tristan gave Miles a sad smile. Had Miles said this to him a few months ago, he would have teased him about how cheesy that was and listed every rom-com that had used that line, but now Tristan just stayed silent, tired.
He didn't even realize that he had gotten out of the car and was walking up the stairs towards the Dot until he opened the door and the smells hit him.
The sweet smell of sugar and bread and chocolate and everything that he wanted. He craved it. He needed it. But he couldn't. The bread would scratch his stomach and the milk would burn his throat. He wasn't meant for food. His stomach was clean and empty.
Tristan made a beeline for a table farthest away from the food, sitting down with his back to the counter.
He heard the chair next to him scratch against the floor as Miles sat down.
"So what are you in the mood for?"
"Oh I don't really want anything," came Tristan's automatic reply.
Miles gave him a quizzical look, "Are you sure…?"
"Um, yeah, I had a really big breakfast."
"Ok, well, I'll go get something to drink, be right back."
God, why did I agree to come here?
After what had felt like a few seconds, Miles returned to the table with two large vanilla lattes.
"I know you said you didn't want anything, but I know this is your favorite, I even had them put in some cinnamon for you." Miles said as he placed a drink in front of Tristan.
Miles fought back the urge to ask him if he was ok for the millionth time that day upon seeing Tristan visibly tense up. The awkward silence that hung between the two of them was broken when they heard a familiar voice call out for their attention.
"Hey Miles….Tris," Maya called out as she snaked her way through the tables towards the couple, dragging a reluctant Zig and Grace in tow.
"How are you?"
"We're ok, I guess," Miles looked over at Tristan, who seemed far too interested in his drink to acknowledge Maya.
"Can we?" Maya gestured to the empty chairs at the table.
Miles waited for Tristan to look up, giving him confirmation that it was ok, but Tristan remained unresponsive.
"Sure," Miles agreed. Zig began to protest but Grace grabbed his wrist and pushed him into a chair, her eyes daring him to complain. Miles just shook his head, he didn't have time to deal with whatever drama was going on there.
"So how are thin-," Maya stopped midsentence as her eyes fell on Tristan. His hands were gripping the sides of his chair, his expression unreadable as his head was hung over his untouched drink. She turned to Miles, her growing concern apparent.
"What's wrong with him?" Maya whispered, her forehead winkling as she saw Miles' dejected expression, but he just shrugged.
Tristan snapped his head up, suddenly realizing that they had company. He looked around, momentarily confused. The battle raging in his head subsided, momentarily being overtaken as he tried to figure out when Maya, Zig, and Grace had gotten here.
"Um hi," he muttered, embarrassed.
"That must be some drink you have," Zig chuckled.
"Huh?"
"You've been staring at it for nearly five minutes."
"Maybe he's looking for buried treasure," Grace snorted.
"Guys, don't," Maya shot them a look.
"It's fine, I was just, thinking," Tristan offered weakly.
Zig and Grace continued their banter despite Maya's disapproving glances. Tristan tried to keep up but his mind kept wondering elsewhere. The buzz of conversation filled his ears, the smells of coffee and baked goods swirled around him, the room began to go out of focus, he could feel himself slipping but he caught himself, grabbing the table to steady himself.
"Woah, are you ok?" Maya grabbed Tristan's arm.
"I'm just tired."
Why can't people just stop asking me if I'm ok? No, I'm not ok. I'm never ok.
"Maybe we should get you home?" Miles suggested as he got up.
Tristan nodded, grateful for the escape, swaying a little as he rose from his own seat.
Miles grabbed Tristan's waist as he stumbled forward.
Why does he waste his time with me?
"Miles?" Tristan spoke up as they neared his car.
Miles stopped and turned to face Tristan, surprised to see a smile on his face. He had almost forgotten how much he missed that smile.
"Yeah?"
"I just…I love you," Tristan said shyly.
Miles couldn't help but smile as the butterflies in his stomach fluttered. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Tristan's lips before pulling him into his arms. The two boys just stood there, arms wrapped around each other, the sun beating down on their backs.
"I love you too," Miles whispered.