Page 74 of Just a Footnote

“Did I ask for your opinion?”Aiden asks him through a mouthful of pizza.

“No but Archer is worried,” Miles counters breezily. “So, knock it off or he’ll think you’re up to no good.”

“Fine,” Aiden replies grumpily.

“Also,” Miles whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “I saw Liam when Seattle came to Boston last week. He sent you a present, I put it in your room.”

Aiden schools his face into something bland even though his heart is almost hammering out of his chest.

They spend the rest of their Christmas Day lounging on the couch in sweats making dry commentary about Christmas movies like they always do. Miles falls asleep halfway through Die Hard with his head on Archer’s shoulder.

“Literally only your boyfriend would find Die Hard relaxing enough to lull him to sleep,” Aiden points out.

“Boyfriend,” Archer repeats slowly.

Aiden narrows his eyes at him and frowns. “Isn’t he?”

Archer considers it for a moment. At least he assumes Archer is before he turns back to Aiden with a steady unflinching gaze.

“I think maybe…husband.”

“Oh,” Aiden says quietly.

“Not yet,” Archer clarifies, hand tangling gently in Miles’s auburn curls. “Soon.”

“Why?” Aiden asks, curious. He knows Archer wants all thatstuff but it still feels like they’re so young. Miles is still in Boston for a few more years on his contract unless he gets out with an early trade. New York might not even want him. Will Archer trade somewhere else?

“He’s family,” Archer explains in a hurried whisper. “I want to make it permanent. He’s never had someone. I have you but it’s different. I want us to have each other.”

Aiden thinks about it. The admission isn’t a big surprise to him since he’s got the most insight into their relationship. From the outside looking in it’s obvious how much they love one another. How much they depend on one another when things are good and when things are bad. Miles spent much of his youth as a runaway, unloved by his parents, and Archer had given him someone steady to lean on that wasn’t afraid of his trauma. Archer had his own so it made it easy to understand another’s. He’s kind of surprised it’s taken this long for Archer to make that decision.

“I’m happy for you,” Aiden finally says. “Miles makes you happy and he’s my family because he’s yours.”

Archer slides his gaze back to Aiden. Something shines in Archer’s eyes that he’s never seen before. Maybe relief? They’ve never really said those words to each other before. It’s been assumed. Maybe he should say things like that to Archer more.

“Stop running,” Archer orders softly, gaze hardening in Aiden’s direction.

Just like that Aiden hates him again. What an asshole. He’s not running from anything or anyone. Aiden is not a runner.

At the end of the day, when he’s secluded in his bedroom, he idly spins the phone around in his hand. The urge to call Liam, just to hear him breathing, eats away at him. They hadn’t discussed calling one another though so Aiden is afraid to be the first to call. Liam’s father is in Seattle with him, having afamilyChristmas, so the idea of interrupting that for a petty phone call makes him feel vaguely uncomfortable.

His phone vibrates in his hand, shaking him from his reverie. Liam’s name lights up the screen in the muted darkness of his room. The contact image is of a blurry selfie they’d taken together back in September on the one night that they’d had tangled together. The sight of it makes the ache in Aiden’s chest somehow even worse. How can he be homesick for a person?

“Merry Christmas,” Aiden says in lieu of greeting. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Dad tried to make a vegan ham. It tasted like garbage,” Liam grumbles into the phone. There’s that familiar rustling on the other end of the phone that tells him that Liam is laying in bed, playing with the edge of his shirt. “You?”

“Miles fell asleep watching Die Hard.”

“Predictable,” Liam laughs lightly, before taking a steadying breath. “Did Miles give you the present I sent along with him for you?”

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Aiden points out as the box wrapped in brown paper stares at him from the edge of his bed. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s stupid anyway. Open it.”

The hesitance in Liam’s voice is loud beneath the confidence of his words. Carefully, he unwraps the box, opening it to find one of Liam’s hoodies for Seattle with his name and number on it. He lifts it to his face, breathing in, finding it oddly smells like Liam. Like oranges and home and something Aiden has never been able to place that’s just so inherently him.

“Liam,” Aiden says firmly, heart in his throat. “Did you wear this?”

---