A light breeze ruffled Miles' hair as he sped down the road. He smiled as he felt Tristan tighten his hold on his hand. Miles looked over at Tristan, his hear turned away from Miles as he watched the trees and buildings passing by. Miles wanted to fell happy, content. But then he remembered where he was going and why, and his outlook darkened. Something was really wrong. Miles pulled up into Tristan's driveway and let go of his hand to take the key out of the ignition.

"My parents aren't home, do you want to come in?"

"Sure," Miles agreed as he got out of the car, trying to ignore Tristan's shaking hands as he reached for the door handle.

Miles rushed over to the car, opening the door for Tristan and offering him his hand.

"I'm fine," Tristan muttered, his face turning red. But he accepted Miles' hand nonetheless.

Tristan heard Miles say something as they reached the front door but he didn't respond, concentrating his energy on keeping his hand steady as he unlocked the door, not wanting to give him any more cause for concern.

Can't even open a door properly.

Can't walk without falling over.

Pathetic.

Miles watched Tristan's face flash with suppressed pain, but stayed silent, mostly because he knew that Tristan wasn't listening. He felt his forehead wrinkle with worry, lamenting how it would soon be permanently wrinkled. He led Tristan to the couch, taking note of how slowly he was moving compared to this morning. M pass by him. Mileaybe he was getting sick?

Tristan dropped to the couch, immediately curling up in the cushions.

"Are you cold?" Miles asked, sitting down next to him.

"Fine," Tristan repeated his mantra, but Miles saw him shiver slightly.

He looked around the room, spotting a large, blue and red checkered quilt thrown over an armchair. He leaned over and dragged it to the couch, draping it over Tristan.

"Thanks," A small smile ghosted Tristan's lips as he tightened the quilt around him, letting the gratifying warmth wrap around him.

"You're welcome."

"No really, I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well hopefully you'll never find out." Miles moved closer, draping an arm around Tristan.

"Wanna watch something?" Tristan asked, gesturing with his head at the remote.

"Sure," Miles chuckled at Tristan, who had cocooned himself in the blanket.

He turned on the T.V., flipping through the channels, finally settling on some talk show that was featuring a fashion model that Tristan liked. Tristan shifted on the couch, resting his head on Miles' shoulder. They stayed like that for what felt like hours.

Miles' attention drifted from the T.V. to Tristan, who had fallen asleep. He studied his face: how his dark eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the way that his cherry lips were slightly parted, he looked so peaceful. But he also noticed his cheekbones, which were jutting out more prominently than before, and the dark circles that were cast under his eyes. Miles leaned down and pressed his lips on Tristan's head, taking in the citrusy scent of his shampoo.

The door flew open, banging against the wall, the startling noise echoing through the house. Tristan jolted awake, his eyes immediately darting towards the door. But as angry voices filled the entryway, his surprise was replaced with a sad recognition.

"Hi Mom, hi Dad." He said, his voice barely audible as he begun detangling himself from the quilt.

"Come on," Tristan grabbed Miles' wrist and led him up the stairs, a dull ache seeping into his chest.

Miles watched Tristan as he climbed the stairs, his shoulders hunched over, dejected. He wanted to rush over, sweep Tristan up in his arms, and hold him until everything was okay again, but he knew all too well that it didn't work like that. That it was now his turn to stand quietly by Tristan's side, to just be there for him.

"So, um, we can watch something on my laptop, I got some new movies that I've been meaning to see." Tristan walked towards his desk, shuffling around some DVDs, making it very clear that they were not to talk about his parents.

"Yeah, ok. What movies?" Miles walked over to Tristan, but stopped before he could finish crossing the room as he heard glass breaking, the sound cutting through the house like a knife. Miles saw Tristan wince at the sound as the DVDs slipped from his hand and fell back onto his desk. Miles made a step towards Tristan but he was already walking towards his door. Miles waited for Tristan to turn around, but his hand just remained gripping the doorknob of the now closed door.

Tristan tried to steady his shaky breath, not wanting to lose it for the umpteenth time, but it felt like these days he didn't have the energy to hold himself together. He felt a soft hand land on his shoulder. Slowly, he turns around to find Miles' green eyes staring back at him.

Silently, Miles brushed away a tear that had begun rolling down Tristan's cheek.