The car ride to the rehab center was steeped in silence, the kind that pressed against your ears and made every breath feel too loud. Miles sat in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the blurred landscape outside, while Theo gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. Neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts, bracing for what awaited them.
The facility loomed ahead, a stark building nestled among manicured lawns and sterile pathways. It was the kind of place that tried to mask its purpose with fresh paint and potted plants, but the undercurrent of pain and healing was palpable.
Inside, they were led to a modest visitation room. The walls were adorned with generic artwork, and the chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, as if to encourage openness. Miles shifted uncomfortably, his foot tapping a nervous rhythm against the linoleum floor.
When their father entered, he looked... different. Not just physically-though the absence of alcohol had added a few pounds and a healthier hue to his skin-but in his demeanor. There was a clarity in his eyes that Miles hadn't seen in years.
"Hey, boys," he greeted, his voice tentative.
Theo stood first, offering a handshake that turned into a brief, awkward hug. Miles followed suit, his movements stiff, uncertain.
They sat, the weight of unspoken words settling heavily between them.
"I know I have a lot to answer for," their father began, his gaze steady. "I've spent the last few weeks confronting the damage I've caused, not just to myself, but to you two."
Miles felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to speak, to unleash the years of hurt and anger, but the words caught.
"I've filed for divorce," their father continued. "Your mother and I... we were toxic together. I see that now. Staying together for the sake of appearances only prolonged the pain."
Theo's eyes widened. "You're serious?"
He nodded. "Completely. It's time to break the cycle."
Miles finally found his voice. "What changed?"
Their father sighed. "Hitting rock bottom. Realizing that if I didn't make a change, I'd lose everything. Including you two."
The conversation continued, delving into apologies, admissions, and tentative plans for the future. It was raw, emotional, and far from a complete healing, but it was a start.
As they left the facility, the sun breaking through the clouds, Miles felt a strange mix of emotions. Hope, fear, relief, and skepticism all tangled together. But amid the chaos, a small seed of possibility took root.
---
Miles didn't say much on the ride home. Theo didn't push it either, only drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as they drove through the fading light of early evening. It was like they both knew too many words would crack open something neither of them were ready to fully unpack yet.
Their dad's face kept flashing in Miles's mind-clean-shaven, clearer eyes, steady hands. It didn't erase the years of yelling and slammed doors and beer cans scattered on the kitchen floor, but it was the first time Miles saw something that looked like hope. And that scared the hell out of him.
At home, everything felt... off. The air didn't feel as heavy. The silence wasn't suffocating. Their mom wasn't around-probably with John-and there was no scent of alcohol clinging to the couch cushions or burned dinners in the trash. It was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Miles went straight to his room and sat on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swimming. He hadn't messaged Leia since yesterday. And even then, it was only a "you good?" she hadn't replied to. Not that he expected her to. She hadn't said more than a handful of words to him since *that* day-since she saw him with Kayla and made whatever assumptions she wanted to make. And part of him was still pissed. But another part-the softer, quieter part he kept burying-just missed her.
She would've known what to say after today. She always did.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember how her voice sounded when she whispered his name. It used to be the only thing that calmed him down after a fight at home. That and her stupid rainbow notebook. Now, she felt miles away-even though she lived only a few blocks down.
His phone buzzed next to him, making him flinch.
Theo: You okay?
Miles didn't respond right away. He stared at the screen, then slowly typed back:
Miles : no idea.
He tossed the phone beside him and stood up, pacing the room a little before grabbing his hoodie off the floor and pulling it over his head. His chest felt tight. Not in a panic-attack way, just... full. Like he couldn't take a proper breath without everything unraveling.
His footsteps were quiet as he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. The fridge still had leftovers from earlier this week-stuff Theo had cooked when he was trying to act like the responsible adult of the house. Miles wasn't hungry, though. He wasn't sure what he was. Everything felt numb and jagged all at once.
He thought about texting Leia again. Just to tell her about his dad. Maybe she'd actually respond. Maybe she'd care.
But then again, maybe not.
She hadn't shown up at the diner since last week. Their booth in the corner-their spot-felt like a ghost of what it used to be. Miles went there sometimes after school, sat alone with a chocolate milkshake and an untouched plate of fries, half-hoping she'd walk through the door. She never did.
He didn't blame her. Not really.
Not after what he said.
Not after how he shut her out when she tried to ask what was wrong.
He punched the cabinet door once-lightly, more out of frustration than anything else-then pulled out a glass of water and sat back down at the table. His hands were shaking just enough to annoy him. He clenched them into fists.
He wanted to tell her that he was sorry. That his dad finally owning up to his mistakes made Miles realize how he'd been walking through the last few weeks like a ghost. And not just to Leia. To everyone.
He was scared-scared of the house falling apart, scared of losing the last thread of normal he had left, scared that if he let himself love anyone, they'd just leave. Like his mom. Like his dad almost did. Maybe even like Leia was already halfway to doing.
He didn't know how to say that to her. Hell, he didn't know how to say it to himself.
But he missed her. He missed her laugh, her sarcasm, her dumb doodles in the corners of her notebooks. He missed how she saw through him-like really saw through him, no matter how hard he tried to hide.
He picked up his phone again, staring at their old texts. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. His heart thudded loud in his chest.
Miles : Hey... can we talk?
He stared at the message, debated hitting send.
Instead, he locked his phone again and shoved it in his hoodie pocket.
He wasn't ready.
Not yet.
But he would be.