Breaking Silence

Victor stood outside Milo's apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. He had reached his breaking point. The silence, the distance-it was all too much. He raised his hand and knocked on the door, his breaths uneven.

A few moments later, the door opened, revealing Milo. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly masked it. "Victor? What are you doing here?"

Victor didn't answer immediately, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with something raw and vulnerable. "Why?" he finally said, his voice strained. "Why are you doing this, Milo? What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

Milo stepped aside, gesturing for Victor to come in. "Let's talk inside," he said softly.

Victor entered, the tension radiating off him. Milo led him to the couch and gently pushed him to sit down. "Calm down, Victor. We can-"

"No," Victor interrupted, his voice breaking. "I can't calm down. I can't-" He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I don't understand. What did I do? If I hurt you somehow, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Milo stared at him, his heart sinking at the sight of Victor's unraveling composure. Before he could say anything, he noticed something he hadn't expected-tears sliding down Victor's cheeks.

Victor quickly wiped them away, as if embarrassed, but more tears followed. He looked down, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Milo, please," he whispered. "Just tell me what I did."

Milo froze for a moment, his chest tightening at the sight. "Victor..." he murmured, moving closer. He knelt in front of Victor, cupping his face gently and wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

Victor flinched slightly at the touch but didn't pull back. His teary eyes met Milo's, and Milo leaned in, resting his forehead against Victor's.

"Why are you making this so hard for me?" Milo whispered, his voice trembling.

Victor blinked, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Milo shook his head, pulling back slightly. "It's nothing," he said quickly, standing up. He needed to create some space, to distract Victor-and himself-from the overwhelming emotions flooding the room. "Have you eaten yet? It's late."

Victor shook his head, his lips forming a slight pout.

Milo sighed, a small chuckle escaping despite the tension. "You need to eat. Let me make you something."

He turned to head to the kitchen, but Victor's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't change the subject," Victor said, his grip firm but not forceful. "I want to know. Why didn't you text me back? Why didn't you call? What's going on?"

Milo hesitated, his eyes flickering to Victor's hand on his wrist before meeting his gaze. "After dinner," he said softly, his voice steady. "We'll talk after dinner. I promise."

Victor stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly let go of his wrist. "Fine," he muttered, leaning back on the couch.

Milo nodded and walked into the kitchen, his mind racing. He needed time to collect himself before the conversation to come. As he started preparing a simple dinner, he couldn't help but glance toward the living room, where Victor sat, his head in his hands.

Why does he have to make this so hard? Milo thought, his chest aching.

But deep down, he knew the answer. Victor wasn't just someone to him anymore. And no matter how much distance he tried to create, his heart refused to let go.